


Riptide

by Heavydirtys0ul



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (weed), Alcoholism, Fulfilling my british sides needs, M/M, Mentions of past sexual trauma from the end of the first act, Minor Drug Use, NaNoWriMo 2020, Roman's trying his best, Set in England 1990s, The fic is in three acts, alcohol use, all relationships are consensual in the actual fic, and will have twenty-five chapters, sex under the influence of alcohol, there's no unsympathetic sides or nowt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27325468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/Heavydirtys0ul
Summary: Remus is running from a history he doesn’t want to face, Janus is escaping a guilt that he doesn’t have to bear. When the two meet under the most unlikely of circumstances, Janus finds himself in a whirlwind of a life that gets stranger by the second.As he starts to uncover more about Remus’, and his brother Roman’s, history, Janus finds himself in a much harder situation than he’d thought he’d be in. Can he stop his past repeating itself? Or will he have to carry the weight of living alone once again?
Relationships: (background), Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 50
Kudos: 35





	1. Death Dreams/You died in my sleep last night

It’s early evening, the sun having barely said it’s farewells as the night’s air begins to stir along the town’s streets. Street lamps were flickering along the roadside as people retired to their homes or gardens for whatever it is that normal families do at this point in time. The town is quiet, it is _always_ quiet; that is the nature of places like this you see, things come here to be born or to die but nothing really stays, even the birds migrate from these rotting places. 

The town itself is surrounded by hills, although by the steep streetways and roads one would think the whole place is a series of small hills alone; the roads are paved with cobblestones and the pavements are battered and neglected, as that small-town charm would dictate. There is one river that runs through it, leading off to the neighbouring forest on one side, and up into the hills on the other.

In this evening, the shape of an almost full moon reflects off the marble surface of the river, the hint of stars barely visible amongst the stilling waves. The trees and their leaves join the picturesque reflection, which is disturbed by movements in an almost jarring fashion. It also reflects the image of a man, as he runs up to the peak of the bridge and leans against its brickwork to study the surface.

Music plays through a battered pair of headphones and a scratched up mp3 player that has definitely seen better days, whilst the feet that had beat against the ground in a steady jog through equally worn-out sneakers stilled. The owner of this music, which is compiled mostly out of 60s rock, admires the view the way he does almost every night, taking in the glassy reflection against the river’s surface. He slides his headphones down his neck, the tinny sound of guitar playing through them as he leans his forearms against the chipped paint of the bridge’s brickwork, the wind catching his blonde hair and pushing it from the scarred skin of his face. 

He looked out into the distance for a moment, and then a little closer when movement catches his eyes. It takes him a moment to understand the disruption on the surface of the water, but once he does his eyes widen and he takes off towards the path at the side of the bridge that leads down to the bank. He scrambles down the dirt path, his trainers scraping through the dirt as he puts his mp3 down on the bank with his shirt and dives straight into the water.

He hadn’t really planned on dragging someone practically twice his height out of the water of a river today, but the blonde finds himself dripping with water with a weight in his arms as he drops a scrawny, probably clinically underweight, brunet on the bank next to his belongings. The blue-eyed man curses underneath his breath as the other lies still, frantically recalling how to push water out of somebody's lungs as he presses his hands to the thin man’s chest and begins to push.

It takes him ten minutes, he was starting to think he should call an ambulance but he doesn’t have time to run home for his phone. Then the brunet coughs and water sputters past his lips before he’s rolled onto his side and his body lurches more river water past his pale lips. “Shit.” He mutters, after a moment of pouring the river onto the bank via his lungs. Then he turns back to look at his saviour, green eyes tired as he runs over the other’s face with his gaze. “Hi.” And then his eyes roll back, his body falling heavily against the dirt. The blond man curses firmly and stands, grabbing his shirt off the ground and running a hand through his hair. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, staring at the body, before he gathers his composure and jogs back up to the main road, trying to remember where the nearest phone box is.

\--

Somewhat two hours later, the blonde man finds himself sat next to a hospital bed, pinching the space between his eyebrows in frustration. His right leg bounced against the floor with anxiousness, a magazine on his lap open but not really being read. He’d spoken to the police, lied through his teeth; the last thing this poor bastard needs is being shipped off to a psych ward, he’d spoken to the medics and the hospital staff and now it was getting late into the night but even after handing over ID for the man he’d pulled out of the river: Remus Caleb Sanders, he knew no-one else was coming for the poor bastard. And he couldn’t leave him here alone for whatever reason. 

So he just sits in the room, half-reading magazines that he has no interest in whilst a heartbeat skips through a little machine like a metronome. The sound drives him _insane_.

There’s a moment before he wakes up where the blue-eyed stranger accustoms to the sound of beeping. And then there’s a dry sort of sound as Remus opens his eyes, wincing, “How many drugs did they put me on?” He asks, wit as cold as his skin “I feel worse than a Saturday night,” still, he sits up slowly and stares across the room at the newcomer “Oh, you stayed, awfully sentimental of a stranger.” The blond snorts lightly, shifting under the uncomfortably wild and intense gaze he’s being given. “So can you see out of that eye, like is it real or…?” The brunet gestures to the eye on the scarred side of the other’s face. 

“It’s real, but no, I’m blind in that eye.” 

“Shit that sounds rough, do I get a name with your heroics or do I have to start referring to you as a dashing prince?” 

“Janus, Blackwood.” A long pause. “And it’s not rough, it’s barely even a hindrance now that I’m used to it.” A stuttering silence. “What were you doing in the river?”

“Going for a swim, I kind of forgot I was pissed out of my fucking mind though, my leg went to sleep.” Remus leans back against the wall, sighing. “Oh well, not the first time I’ve died and it probably won’t be the last.” Janus does not know how to respond to that. “So why’d you stay? Feel bad for the drowning alcoholic whose family wouldn’t turn up to his funeral?”

“Precisely.” 

Remus laughs then, loud and hard as he nods “I appreciate your honesty, now do you think maybe you could get me out of here long enough for a cigarette or something?” Janus shakes his head and stands up, stretching out his back which feels like it needs cracking in at least seven different places. 

“No, but I can get you some chocolate and a bottle of coke.”

\--

By the time Remus is finally let go, the morning sun is starting to rise and Janus is half asleep, dragging his feet along the edge of the road, wondering how the fuck he’s going to get back home. The green-eyed man walking beside him offers a cigarette and he takes it with a quiet huff. “I’ve got enough for a bus ride into town but from there it looks like we’re walking.” He’s met with a stiff nod like the tiredness is settling in on Remus. 

They get a bus, clothes much less wet but still freezing cold, the bus driver looks at them weirdly; and honestly, Janus doesn’t blame him. Two men in their early twenties, one wearing a vest and jogging pants, and the other wearing skinny jeans tight enough to cut off blood circulation and a shirt that was meant for parties, getting the early morning bus back to a small town from the nearest hospital. They’re both wet and a little muddy, and he knows they must look like they’ve been dragged through hell. He’s sure someone calls one or both of them ‘twinks’ under his breath, but Janus pays that no mind. If Remus’ outfit is anything to go off, that’s probably an accurate description.

The bus ride is quiet, the brunet keeps closing his eyes, his hand coming up to rub against his beard in a lethargic movement. He leans his head against the window and watches the world drive past him, and beside him, Janus sits still and rests his head on the back of his arms with his forearms against the headrest of the seat in front of him. The bus jolts and they both make noises of complaint in response; Remus fidgets plenty beside him in a seemingly desperate attempt to get comfortable in damp clothes that were already looking rather uncomfortable. It irritates Janus but not enough to say anything at all, he’s too tired and besides, Remus has probably been through enough today.

By the time they’ve got back into town, they’re both far too exhausted, their bodies dragging towards the concrete walk as Remus points in a general direction “Crash at mine?” he mutters, sounding far more northern the more tired he gets. “You look like you’re going to pass out.” He _is_ about to pass out, so he nods in tired agreement and follows Remus’ steps through the town. 

The inside of his home is small, there is a kitchen and a living room and steps leading upstairs, all of them incredibly small, the stairway so narrow the walls feel like they’re closing in; and they’re steep too. Up the stairs, Janus sees two doors and a bathroom, Remus pushes open one of the doors and gestures for the other man to follow, pressing his finger to his lips as they move inside, and by the way he side-eyes the other door, there is somebody living there that he doesn’t want to be awakened. 

His room is small too, a bed and a desk and then not much of anything but a metal box and books with worn pages, clothes and items are strewn all over the floor to the point that the smaller man is entirely sure he can’t feel a carpet. Janus says nothing, he toes off his shoes and tugs off his socks and looks at the bed. It too is small, but Remus peels off his clothes and discards them to the floor, before clambering in without much of a thought, rolling on his side, so Janus squeezes in beside him, after discarding his shirt and still wet sweatpants to the floor, their backs against each other. There should be more reservation, but they are both far too tired to care and fall asleep almost immediately.

They wake some hours later by the sound of an opening door, Janus looks up to find himself looking at a man twice his height and weight with tanned, freckled skin and hair that looks just a little red in the light. He looks like Remus, almost exactly, bar the facial hair and bigger build; his stomach is large but his arms are thick, the sort of person who lifts heavy objects all day every day. “Well, good morning to you, strange man in my brother’s bed, should I be calling the police?” there’s a tinge of tired humour in his tone, but still the way he smiles is not angry and he is not imposing to look at. “I assume you won’t be staying for breakfast?”  
“Am I allowed too?” Janus asked quietly, eyes half-open whilst his body re-affirms itself with the concept of being alive and existing. 

Remus makes a small noise beside him, raising his head to look at the newcomer. The redhead nods “If you want too, we’re having pancakes.” Then he leaves, either because he’s uncomfortable or because he has nothing more to say; Janus thinks about the night before and wonders why the stranger -Remus’ brother- hadn’t come to the hospital. The two don’t seem to be particularly in bad blood, although the other shuffled awkwardly on the spot upon seeing the two in bed together. Usual brotherly awkwardness it seemed.

The brunet sits up, looking around his room and at the figure cramped beside him before he grinned suddenly. “Did Roman say pancakes?” Janus does not get to respond because the other is dashing out of bed, throwing on a shirt and heading towards the bedroom door, energy in him like he’d just shot caffeine into his veins. He runs back after a moment, digging up a pair of sweatpants and a shirt for Janus to throw on. The blond drags behind him, less bouncy, or in fact not at all bouncy, as he rubs sleep out of his eyes. The clothes are too tight, despite Remus being taller, Janus is nowhere near as skinny, in fact, he’s not entirely sure _anyone_ should be that skinny. Not at that height anyway, and this seems to be a family of freakishly tall men.

Which is just Janus’ bitterness over being five foot six.

Roman smiles tightly at Janus, as though he doesn’t really know what to say, so he just slides pancakes onto a plate and gestures at the cupboards “help yourself to any toppings you can find.” Soon the smaller man finds himself trying to figure out if blueberries and hazelnut spread would taste nice together (it does _not_ taste nice together). Remus, however, has managed to put absolutely anything onto his plate; sugar, lemon, honey, cornflakes, an unidentifiable type of fruit, more sugar, pieces of a chocolate bar, peanuts. The blue-eyed man stops trying to identify objects in the mess because honestly the more he thinks about how that has to taste the more his stomach lurches. “Are you two up to anything interesting for the day? What’s left of it anyway.”

Remus shrugs “I was going to go back to bed and smoke, I don’t know what blond and broody is doing if he’s not joining me.” Janus pushes the pancake into his mouth as two sets of freakishly similar eyes turn to him. He chews. Then he shrugs.

“If you’re not in a rush to kick me out I’ll stay, make sure you don’t end up in another river.” The brothers laugh but they’re different laughs; Roman’s sounds very tired, almost humourless as his eyes go to his twin, there’s a lot of remorse in the way he looks at Remus. The other twin, however, laughed out loud like a real joke had been told, you know, other than his life’s story that is. Janus cracks a sort of half-smile, but he doesn’t miss the way the redhead’s gaze goes to his plate, pushing at food slowly as though his appetite had been lost. Remus finished his food without noticing, dumping his plate in the sink “I’ll be in my room when you’re done, Jan.”

He’s already got a nickname, that’s _nice_.

An awkward silence follows Remus’ absence, the sound of forks on ceramic the only noise to really fill the room, but there’s also this tense feeling that Janus can’t shake, maybe it’s the way Roman glances at him like he has something to say; he isn’t sure. The silence is tense before the other can’t really stand it and meets Roman’s eyes. The green-eyed man sighs and rests his fork down. “You were the one who pulled him out of a river last night?” Janus nods. “Thank you, the doctors said someone was with him and honestly, I don’t think he’d want me there, and I didn’t _want_ to be there.” The blond keeps his mouth shut, withholding any judgement he has. “As grateful as I am that you’ve helped him, temporarily at least, he can be like this a lot, not really thinking things through and winding up in some sort of trouble for it.” Roman looks down at his pancakes, they’re soaking in honey and don’t look all that appetizing anymore. “So, if you can’t handle that, then you should probably leave now before he gets too attached to you.” 

Janus nods.

He doesn’t walk out the door. He says thank you for the food and washes the dishes because that was just the way he was raised, even though Roman insists he needn’t do so. Then he goes up to Remus’ room and cramps up on that tiny bed as the other inhales smoke that smells far too nice and makes his head spin like he’s caught in the eye of a storm. He might be, actually. 

Janus smokes with him, watching clouds fill the room until his hands start shaking and he hands it back to Remus so that he can close his eyes and relax. He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he next opens his eyes there’s a plate of cookies on the bedside table that looks homemade and smells wonderful, and Remus is tucked up against him like a frightened rabbit. He’s fast asleep, his head on Janus’ chest. The blond smiles a little, exhaling quietly through his nose before he reaches for a cookie and eats it carefully, trying not to get crumbs in the other’s hair. It’s a venture he inevitably fails in. 

Later, when Remus wakes up, he blinks his tired eyes with eyeliner still clinging to the corners of them despite the ordeal of the night before, but he doesn’t seem to care. He must spend hours of a day used to being a mess, Janus concludes silently to himself as the other man peels himself from his body and yawns loudly. “What time is it?” Janus looks out of the window. 

“About three in the afternoon,” Remus nods and rubs his eyes, looking down at the blankets around him, his shirt hanging off his shoulder. Janus considers asking if there’s something wrong with him, but that would be rude, still, no person should feasibly look that thin, like all the bones in their body are covered by a thin layer of bloodless skin. Remus catches him staring and looks down at himself with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” The blond at least has the audacity to blush then, as he’s reached over for the plate of cookies. “Hm, he made my favourite, I guess that’s his way of asking if I’m alright,” he sighs, taking a bite out of a cookie. Janus watches him, not in an overly observational way it’s just...when he pulled Remus from the river he’d looked dead, he’d thought when he was breathing he’d look more alive, as he eats, there’s nothing that seems different. 

He still looks like a corpse. An animated body that doesn’t really hold much life; perhaps he’s vitamin deficient or has an overactive metabolism. Janus had a cousin whose body digested food so fast that he could eat five meals a day and still be far too thin. He did not and does not envy him.

“So...how did it happen?” Remus asks suddenly with his eyes scrutinising Janus’ scarred face far too firmly (and his face leans in too close, too). Janus eyes him with his blue eyes, or rather blue eye, the other is a very pale colour but the damage had not been so intense that he thought it to look ugly. As a child he had, when it had happened, he’d hated his face, but that was just people being cruel that gave him that view. 

“My dad left the gas on, kitchen went up in flames and so did half my face,” Janus replied bluntly. 

“Neat,” Remus replies with a look that is freakishly impressed. “Does it hurt?” 

“Now? No, not at all, the skin is about as repaired as it’ll get and I’ll be blind in one eye for the rest of my life but as far as I’m concerned I’m lucky I got out without worse,” he snorts a laugh, one that makes Remus grin a little. He likes this strange blond, he has a sense of humour when it comes to sadness and that’s something he needs in his life. His hand comes up curiously to reach around the side of the smaller man’s face, his fingertips tracing the scarred skin gently. 

Janus shivers a little, his gaze fixing intensely to Remus’. 

He drops his hand and grins. “You look super cool, like badass.” The blond grins back, finally glad to not be looked at like a circus freak or with some disgusted form of pity. He’s so glad that he isn’t sure he wants to _leave_.

Eventually, he leaves, because he has a life to tend too and work tomorrow, but he thanks Roman for the cookies on the way out. He stands on their doorstep for a moment, talking to the dark-haired boy, who leans against the doorway in a shirt and sweatpants, he smiles when he talks, but his eyes are lifeless. The exhausted sort of lifeless that is, like when you go to work and have to spend all day smiling and acting pleasant but all you really want to do is scream at the top of your lungs. That sort of lifeless, all smiles and no happy.

Remus asks Janus if he’ll come around after work tomorrow, Janus says he will, he makes it to the gate before the other shouts “Oh and could you grab us something from the shop when you do, I’ll need something to wash down my terrible cooking,” the blond calls him a cheeky bastard, but he’s grinning as he says it. He’s not used to people, and he gets the feeling that Roman and Remus are not exactly different to him in that sense. Still, he misses his much cleaner house and sighs with relief from the smell of air freshener. 

Is it rude to offer to clean someone’s house, he wonders, would it even stay clean with Remus in that house? He imagines that Roman is the main income provider, which means he likely doesn’t have enough time to clean. He makes a mental note to ask anyway because he’d already dragged Remus from the river he might as well offer to help in other ways too. 

Janus has not had anyone to help in a very long time; he’s not a communicative person, he doesn’t make friends, he barely makes colleagues. He hasn’t heard from his family since...since he was seventeen. 

Perhaps acts of service is his love language, save someone’s life, offer to clean up, buy them something from the shop. Or maybe he’s just a lot like his parents that he thinks gifts can be used to replace a meaningful connection. 

Janus wonders about those things as he has a shower, finally getting to wash the grime off of his skin. He throws his clothes into the wash and pulls on some warmer pyjamas. He’s tired, but not nearly enough to sleep, so he sits in his living room and watches TV almost vacantly. He thinks about the brothers, their house is not much smaller than Janus’ but it feels far too small, and now his house feels too big, too empty, not at all lived in. Sometimes it feels more like a storage unit. Maybe it is.


	2. Despicable // I ain't ever been a keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks of knowing Remus and Janus understands two things: he’s very excitable, and Janus has a little bit of a crush on him.

Janus has made two whole weeks in Remus’ company. Something about him is almost addictive or perhaps that is both loneliness and worry infusing into his emotions and giving him a conclusion he doesn’t really know is true. Regardless, he is enjoying this strange and haphazard friendship he’s managed to land himself in. 

He came home from work strangely excited to see the man the first time, and every time afterwards, he’s almost wondering if he actually has a _crush_. Janus has not had a crush since high school, he supposes he’s either been too busy or...well, _that_ doesn’t matter anymore now. All that really matters is that he does like Remus an awful lot, even if the man can never settle or sit still, or drinks perhaps _far_ more than anyone around him would like in the slightest. 

He’s not a disagreeable man, Janus thinks, he’s just very hyper, Remus cannot fathom sitting still unless he’s high or so exhausted that he can’t move. His hands are always occupied with either playing cards or a cigarette or alcohol, or a book. A lot of those books are so tattered it’s a wonder that they can be read. He considers buying some more for him, but gifts have always sat very hollowly on Janus and that’s not a sentiment he wishes to impart on the first friend he’d had since he were 17. 

He does, however, buy him other things, and Roman too. After the first week and he’d turn up with alcohol for the younger twin, Roman jokingly asked if next, he’d be stocking up their cupboards, as they’re in need of some bread and milk. So, Janus turned up with a loaf of bread and milk, leaving it on the kitchen table for the elder twin to find. It had been a joke but honestly, it feels nice to help someone once more. 

He shouldn’t feel this old in his early twenties. But loneliness sort of does that to a person, and he’s been alone for five years now. 

He hadn’t been so good at helping people then though, he’s older now, he can help people now. He _wants_ to help the twins, and he wants to help Remus a _lot_. It’s a strange feeling to have and it reminds him distantly of a high school crush he’d had; nothing had come of it of course because nothing ever does in high school, but he had thought he’d loved that boy then, he was always so eager to make him happy, to please him, he thinks he would’ve tied a rope to the moon and pulled it down if he’d asked. 

That was just a high school crush, that sort of flustered desire to care for and about another person and in return hope they care for you too. Not quite love, not quite not-love either. That’s what it feels like being around Remus; flustering, excited to see him, heart skipping a beat in his chest sort of deal. When you know it isn’t love because it’s far too soon and you barely know the other person but you also don’t know it couldn’t be with some time, effort and energy. All things neither of them really has. 

Well, Remus has energy, he also drinks too much. 

But that’s okay, young people do that, Janus drinks with him so at least he doesn’t have to drink alone. 

He walks into the house with a couple of bottles of beer and some burger buns, he places the buns down on the kitchen table for Roman to collect in approximately twenty minutes when he comes walking through the door. Then, Janus walks up stairs to Remus’ bedroom and places the bottles down on the bedside table, sitting down on the edge and slightly shaking the shoulder of the sleeping man (far too gently for it not to be caring, it’s actually a little amusing to himself). Remus stirs with a little sigh, peeling open his eyes to look up at Janus. A tired smile slips across his face, then he stretches out, his back arching and shirt riding up (Janus looks away, then, because that’s not something he should be thinking about at all right now, that’s just too domestic even for him). 

The elder man sits up and cracks his neck, pushing the heavy strands of his dark hair from his eyes and yawning lightly, resting his head on Janus’ shoulder for a moment as he just breathes- in and out, in and out, in- then he moves to grab a bottle off the bedside table. “How long have you been asleep?” The blond asks quietly, as though speaking too loud will startle the still bleary-eyed man. Remus does not seem able to be startled by anything. The cap pops off the bottle via a key, and Remus lifts the drink to his lips. 

“What time is it?” 

“About six,” 

“About three hours, I got bored.” Janus laughs softly. “I worked the morning shift and I felt like my eyes were going to bleed out of my face.” 

Remus reaches over to his cassette player and plugs it into the socket near his bed, he opens the tape deck and switches the tape around, pushing it closed again, before turning down the volume and switching it on. He always remembers the exact number required for conversation, but Janus doesn’t think he listens to enough tapes for that. Or music in general, he tends to fill his silence with the TV. His music collection is eclectic to say the least, Remus’ that is, but Janus has become slightly fond of Echo and the Bunnymen this week because it’s the tape that the other man insists on playing on repeat, and if he did not also adore it he fears he may go _insane._

“Up for a game?” The now more-awake Remus asks, picking up the pack of cards next to his speakers, or at least one of them, one has just about made it to the shelf above his bed whilst the other balances far too precariously at the end of his bedside table. He picks up the cards from the table. 

“Sure,” the blonde kicks off his shoes and slides up to sit against the headboard, Remus lies on his side further down on the bed. He shuffles the cards with a little clumsiness and then deals. “Are we playing poker?” 

“Aren’t we always?” Always, that seems the wrong word but also the right one. It’s only been two weeks, and Janus already feels like Remus is (if nothing else) a habit. “What’s for dinner?” He asks, dividing bottle caps like they’re poker chips. He has a bag of them that he just keeps seemingly for this purpose although he doesn’t know who he plays with, as Roman does not seem like he’d be good at poker, he’s far too expressive. Then again you never really know who is good at this game until you play it with them. It’s also a little difficult to play with just two people. 

“Burgers, I think, I bought burger buns.”

“You don’t have to keep doing that, you know,” 

“I know, but Roman has been cooking for me so it doesn’t feel right to not contribute in some way.” 

“You already do the dishes!” 

Janus laughs a little, nodding. “Yes well, I was raised to have respect for my elders.” 

“He’s only a year older than you,” Janus shrugs, Roman always feels much older than he is. Not like Remus, Remus looks twenty-three, actually he looks younger. It could be because he laughs so much and Roman laughs too, it’s just when he’s not laughing Roman looks sad. Especially when he’s looking at Remus, Janus doesn’t think the younger of the twins notices it but the slightly-redhead sighs with resignation when he makes a tongue in cheek joke, usually at his own depreciation. He always stares at him the way Janus’ father stared at him when he’d come out, and every day afterwards. Not that that rotten bastard gets any right to be upset about anything Janus did or does, he was never much of a father anyway. 

Except there’s no disgust or distaste in Roman’s expression, just sadness and disappointment. It’s not an angry look. Janus does not know what to make of it really, which is why he gets a distinct feeling that perhaps he _cannot_ yet love Remus, he knows he must be missing some sort of jigsaw puzzle and it isn’t the right time to have it. You can’t love someone if you don’t know them, this much he does know. Understanding is a very big piece of that emotion. 

“He’s the closest thing to a dad you seem to have,” Janus meant to say it jokingly, Remus stiffens a little but corrects his posture far too quickly. “I didn’t…”

“It’s chill, he is, he’ll be a good dad one day, he cares too much about everything so the little brat won’t half be spoiled.” Janus laughs a little nervously in response, looking down at his hand by way of distraction. “Are you trying to get in his good graces because you’re trying to whisk his only brother, almost a dear son to him away?” The blond feels his cheeks heat in response, he doesn’t dare to look up at the other man for a moment because he knows the smirk that is on his lip will just fluster him more. 

“No, not at all, I just like being a good guest.” 

“Oh well then, by all means, shall I hand you a mop and a bucket whilst I’m at it?” He swears he growls a little in response, but to be honest Janus’ body suddenly feels so tense he might well start cracking at the seams. Remus shuffles a little closer, the smaller man holds the cards away from him, narrowing his eyes. 

“Is this a ploy?” He looks up, Remus is far closer than he had been a moment ago, he leans back instinctually. People tend not to want to be close to Janus. Most people take one look at him and decide he’s trouble, which is incorrect most of the time; mostly he was just _abused_. 

“Maybe.” 

“I’d rather you just asked to see my cards.” 

“You wouldn’t just show them to me!” 

“Damn right I wouldn’t and I’m still not going t-” the cards fall out of his hands and to the side of the bed with the sound of cardboard hitting the floor. He doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands when Remus kisses him, he doesn’t know what to do with his body either and just...tenses for a second. Remus’ hand comes up to his jaw and the pressure of his thumb against his skin, drawing petite circles, somehow eases that tension away. Janus relaxes. Then he sighs a little, eyes closing finally as he kisses back. His hand comes up to rest on the other man’s shoulder and then drifts up to his neck, he doesn’t miss the way the taller man shivers as the pad of his thumb ghosts his throat. 

He decides, for the better part, that he does _not_ want to know. 

Then they both pull away and the first emotion Janus experiences is confusion, eyebrows knitting together and lips pulled into a frown. “I don’t understand, why did you do that?” His cards are on the floor now, so it can’t have been a ploy if Remus still cannot see them. 

“Just felt like it,” Remus shrugs, turning back to his own hand, sitting up and crossing his legs. “You’re hot and it’s been a while.” The other man shivers a little involuntarily, he doesn’t think he’s ever been described by anyone as aesthetically pleasing, or at least not by anyone he holds in high regard; as it turns out burn scars from childhood neglect can be quite the turn-on for some people, far more people than one might expect. 

He’s almost entirely sure he can not quite be loved, only fetishised, but that’s better than nothing. Is Remus one of those people? Who finds scars some sort of enticement? 

He opens his mouth to ask but the sound of the front door opening has Remus sitting up. “Dinner!”

“It takes at least half an hour to cook, he’s only just got through the door.” 

“Dinner!” 

“You’re like a dog,” Janus utters bluntly, but the corner of his lips are tilted to an amused smile. “Shall we continue the game, and give Roman some time to actually get in the house?” he almost pities the other man, surely someone should teach Remus to cook, it’s a life skill and he can’t live with his brother forever, and Janus is certainly no maid. 

There he goes again, getting ahead of himself, _great_ now Remus is moving in with him, over a kiss? Puppy love indeed. 

He still doesn’t really know if Remus was kissing him or a concept of him, he doubts he’d get an answer if he even asked. The other man had admitted it was simply hormones, and that’s fine, Janus can deal with that. After all, they must be considering each other as friends by now and he’s fairly certain plenty of people enjoy a sexual sort of bond with their friends. He doesn’t really know, he can’t remember the last time he had a friend...high school, he thinks, and that was not the sort of friend one would share handjobs with. He’s fairly certain _that_ boy had been so straight that his entire personality rested on his ability to be macho-man. _Suffocatingly_ heterosexual. 

So, Janus does not know if it’s normal to kiss your friends on the sheer premise that it has been a while since anybody put their hands on your body but he can deal with that. It’s just a kiss. Why is he freaking out so much over a _kiss?_

Probably because he’s been alone for so long. That’s usually the answer to a lot of the questions that he asks himself these days.

He’d stayed with Remus because he was alone and worse he was _lonely_ , he could tell by the way he spoke and the way his eyes avoided Janus’, he’s not anymore used to people caring about him than the blond is. Which seemed strange once he’d met Roman because he seems to care a great deal for his brother. Again, Janus is very aware he’s missing some strange puzzle piece, but that doesn’t matter right now, what matters is what does he _say?_ Does he acknowledge the kiss? Does he do it again? What on earth is the etiquette for this?

Dear _Lord,_ he’s so much like a goddamn teenager when it comes to this sort of thing, no idea where to put his hands or mind, or at what pace he should be going at. 

He focuses on the cards. The bedroom door opens. The blond sighs, glad to have some of the tension dissipated. “Thanks for the buns, we’re having burgers and chips,” Roman informs them. “Are you playing poker?” Remus nods. “Careful, he cheats.” Ah, so Roman does play poker then, interesting. “Dinner will be ready in about half an hour, also Remus, Patton’s going to be here tomorrow so try and do just a little cleaning for me, will you?” 

“Patton does not at all care about how dirty this house is and if he did he would’ve left you at sixteen.” Roman sighs and shakes his head, closing the door behind him. 

“Who’s Patton?” Janus asked, oblivious. 

“Roman’s boyfriend, I say boyfriend, if they could be, they _would_ be married.” Remus sighs a little. “They’ve been together for years, like since they were teenagers, so like...seven years, that’s so long I don’t know how he does it.” 

“Have you never been with anyone a long time?” He’s not asking out of judgement, he’s never been with anyone at all, the nearest foray into romance he’s had was a handjob in the back of a club. It wasn’t romantic at all and he doesn’t really remember it because of all the shots. 

“My relationships tend to start around 11PM and be gone by 3AM the next morning.” Remus snorts, reaching over the edge of the bed to rescue his ashtray and a packet of cigarettes. He leans back down for his lighter (one of about twelve), flicking the lid open and running it sharply along his jeans to light it, before flipping the lid shut. “Never been in love and not entirely sure I want to be, those idiots are suffocating enough with their little smiles and cuddles it’s _gross.”_ His smile is no longer on his face, in fact Janus can see his hands shaking.

“Right,” he replies, clearing his throat a little. “Love is suffocating.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” then the smile is back on his face, as though it had never left. 

Roman calls them down for dinner roughly half an hour after he said it would be ready, Remus complains he is being starved but the older twin explains, in a rather deadpan tone, that if Remus wants dinner earlier he should learn to cook it. Janus counters that he wouldn’t touch Remus’ cooking with a ten-foot pole, and the kitchen always looks like it’s exploded after the other comes out of it. The twins laugh in response and it might have been the first time he’s seen Roman smile quite so widely. 

It’s almost eight by the point they’ve finished dinner, Janus washes the dishes and leaves them on the drying rack to drip as he has every night since he’d met Remus. It’s a nice routine that feels... _comfortable_. Janus’ home is always a little too big for one person and he isn’t entirely sure why, but it is nice to have someone, anyone, to clean up for. Instead of just himself, that is. 

He expresses that he should probably head home but Remus pouts. “Stay, you can go to work from here,” Roman suddenly looks like he should not be in the room and makes himself scarce so fast that Janus worries he might get whiplash. “It’s basically the same distance to the train station from here anyway.” Then Remus steps a little bit closer, staring down at the blond with a small smile, it isn’t intimidating but it makes him feel equally as flushed and like all the adrenaline is coursing through his body at terminal velocity. 

“I…” Janus’ words die a little in his throat, wondering when he’d become the sort of person who blushes or clams up easily, but he’d suppose the answer would be two weeks ago. “Okay,” he finally manages out, voice catching in his throat. 

Remus grins victoriously and heads back up the stairs with the other in tow. He is feeling quite tired, so he’s happy to just lie down and smoke with the music playing. The ashtray lies between their bodies as they both lie on their sides trying to cramp onto the single mattress.

The smoke curls around them as the music plays quietly through the speaker, the light of the tape deck the only light in the room at present, bar the streetlights filtering in from the street. The room feels strangely warm, despite the window being cracked open so not to set off the fire alarm in the hallway. The two don’t speak much for the moment, and Janus feels his body dragging through the mattress beneath him as lethargy and laziness allow him to relax. He has, by now, finally stopped wondering about the kiss, because the more he thinks of it the more frustrated and confused he finds himself being. He’s not sure someone can just ask again why they were kissed because it’s generally basic science: attraction. Why anyone would be attracted to him he isn’t sure, no-one has really been attracted to him before or at least not a specific type of person. 

Remus, although wild, does not strike him as the sort of person to make a friend on the basis he finds his sob story _fuckable_. 

He leaves his joint in the ashtray, his head hurting a little as he leans up to grab his glass of water off the floor, swallowing it down so fast some dribbles over his chin. “Careful,” Remus comments, amused “...if you’re that desperate to choke I’ve got something you might enjoy.” Janus does, indeed, choke then (on the water). He places the glass back down and covers his mouth as he coughs and splutters, Remus leans up to pat him on the back, that grin he always has is illuminated in the street lamps and the light of the tape deck. It looks almost wolfish in the low light. Hungry. 

“Stop that,” Janus mutters, and the smile falls. “I don’t know what game you’re playing Remus, but it’s not a funny joke.” Then he just looks confused, eyebrows knitting close together and lips pulled into an almost comical expression of a frown; like a cartoon character. Remus opens his mouth once, twice, three times but no sound comes out on each attempt, as if he’s baffled beyond works. 

“I don’t understand what the punchline would be,” he finally says. “I’m not joking, I’m flirting.” ‘ _Yes, but why?’_ Janus wants to say because he’s confused, because he’s not used to this and most people he’s ever fucked around with didn’t kiss him during and pointedly avoided looking at his scarred skin. Remus is staring at him with this expression that seems to undress him without moving to take off a single layer, eyes boring over his skin and straight through to his soul. 

_Now, **what** does he do with a look like that? _

“That is the joke,” he replies “...and I’m the punchline.” 

“Because of that?” Remus asks, his hand coming out to Janus’ face, his fingertips graze over the skin and the blond flinches just a little. He ducks behind his hair and tilts his face away. “You’re so pretty though, I don’t understand why a burn would change that.” He hums. “Am I pretty?” Janus turns back to look at him with an expression of bewilderment. 

_“Yes,_ ” he says finally. Remus nods, then he hums and in one far too fast movement, presses the lit end of his cigarette into his left forearm. “Remus!” Janus grabs his wrist and pulls it away with terror in his eyes, hardly able to believe he’d done that to himself, and in front of him too. “Don’t...what the _fuck_ is the idea?” 

“Am I less pretty now?” he asks simply. 

“You idiot, of all the irresponsible, s-” If he’s going to keep kissing him just to shut him up, Janus thinks he’s going to have to have a few words. Remus drops his cigarette in the ashtray and pulls back, grinning again; that burn had got to sting but he looks as though he barely felt it at all, not so much as a tear in his eyes to signify he’d just pressed the burning end of a cigarette into his flesh. He hadn’t flinched when it had done so either, his gaze fixated and firm and far too determined for an act like that. “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“The burn? Or the kiss?” Remus’s grin becomes a cheeky smirk, his eyes crinkling with the motion. He picks up the ashtray and moves off the bed to set it down on his desk, away from anything that can catch fire. But when he returns to the bed he doesn’t sit where he had sat, he clambers onto Janus’ lap with that mischievous look in his eyes. The blond is almost sure this man is going to give him a heart attack. 

Two weeks, and he already feels like he’s somehow a friend, lover and mother to this reckless _son of a bitch_. 

“You didn’t answer, am I still pretty?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Then shut up with your whining and kiss me.” Janus does, he tilts his head back and leans up into the kiss, letting the taller man guide him down against the mattress, his heart hammering in his chest. He’s not sure if it’s the weed or Remus’ body pressing against his own that’s giving him heart palpitations but at least he doesn’t feel alone. He’s tired of that. He’s been tired of that for many, _many_ years. 

“Don’t you dare do that again,” Janus mutters. “I’m supposed to be here so you don’t end up in the river, not pulling you out of it,” Remus laughs a little, pressing their lips together quickly like he can’t get enough of the taste. 

“Get used to it darlin’,” he whispers, his breath hot against the other man’s lips. “You’re going to be pulling me out of a lot of rivers if you stick around,” the words are laughed but they make Janus’ heart sink, he wants to ask what that means, or if there’s something wrong. But it’s as though Remus sees the look on his face and decides for him that they can’t have that conversation, not now, maybe not ever. It’s much easier for the taller man to distract him, so he rocks his hips down against the other’s and watches his eyes go very wide. 

“Oh, okay,” Janus whispers, his head sinking down against the pillow as his hands fumble to find somewhere worth resting. “Are you sure you wanna… ohmygod.” Remus snorts against his neck, nipping lightly at the skin as he rocks his hips again, but doesn’t stop this time, moving until he can feel the other hardening beneath him. Janus, who has about as much of an active sex life as a plant might, is breathless within mere moments. “Re...I really think...wait a...ah, _Remus!_ ” His voice comes out a lot louder than he intends to, his body freezing up as he eyes the door, Remus stills a moment, his hand between their bodies. “Are we supposed to talk about this?” Janus finally manages out, pointedly ignoring the pressure between his legs. 

“Do you want too?” Remus sounds nothing short of amused. 

“I...I don’t _know,_ ” The two paused a moment, and even in the almost darkness Janus can see him raising his eyebrow. “I...I just thought we were friends and I’m confused.” 

“You really want to do this right now?” The amusement is almost tinged with frustration, he sighs and sits up in his friend’s lap. “Look, not everything has to come with rules, you’re hot, you’re my friend, does it need guidelines?” 

“I suppose not?” 

“Good, glad that’s sorted.” Which is about as much as Janus gets as a warning before Remus’ hand is squeezing him through his trousers. “Try to keep quiet, I don’t want to have to deal with Roman in the morning giving me weird looks.” Janus, also, does not want to be given weird looks after he tried so very hard to get Roman to _like_ him. He doesn’t want to think about Roman right now either, that would _also_ be weird. 

Remus’ hands undo the button and the zipper on Janus’ pants, Janus watches him a moment, leaning upon his forearms for some clue of what’s about to happen, he gets his answer when Remus moves further down the bed and ducks his head down. The blonde bites down on his own lip as Remus’ mouth takes him in. Even though it’s dark, too dark, and he wishes more than anything that right now he could watch properly, he knows Remus is watching him. He pants a little, whispering a quiet “fuck,” as his abdomen twists in knots. 

He can’t remember the last time he had a blowjob, maybe a couple of years ago, he must have either been twenty-one or lying about his age, either one works. 

Janus’ hips jolt a little as he feels the tension tie itself up, his whole body feeling hot as Remus wastes absolutely no time, his jaw has got to hurt after the first few minutes, surely, but he doesn’t show it. It’s almost as if he’s _enjoying_ it. Janus has seen stranger things than people who enjoy giving oral, and honestly, he’s seen stranger things from Remus so it shouldn’t really come as a surprise. 

Then Remus practically swallows his cock and he barely manages to quieten the moan that bubbles from his chest right over his lips. “Christ,” he whispers through the dark. “How the fuck…?” He doesn’t get an answer, he just gets his orgasm building closer and closer and he’s sure he’s just about managing to keep those noises quiet. But finally, the tension snaps like a rubber band and he definitely bites down on his hand to keep in the whimpered moan of Remus’ name. 

His hips jolt but the other man doesn’t so much as flinch, continuing his movements until his partner squirms beneath him. Janus hears him swallow in the suddenly too quiet room, but he lies there staring at the ceiling in the dark as he tries to process what had just happened. Was that _supposed_ to happen? Remus had said there’s no rulebook and it’s not as if he has enough experience to counter that with an argument. All he can think for a moment, in a gnawing feeling of worry is: “We didn’t use a condom.” 

Remus hums a little. “I trust you not to be giving me anything.” 

“Trust has very little to do with it,” Janus mutters, tucking himself back into his boxers. “And you’ve known me two weeks.” Remus is definitely rolling his eyes even if he can’t see it as the other man rests his head on the smaller man’s chest, his arm resting across his stomach. “Remus, I’m serious you shouldn’t do that without a condom.” 

“I know,” he mutters. “I just...wanted to taste it.” 

That’s oddly endearing, if not a _little_ strange. 

“In future, just... _please?_ ” 

That was certainly the wrong word choice, he can feel Remus’ grin. “So...in future?” he can hear it too, cocky little bastard. 

“Go to sleep before I knock you out myself.” 

Remus rolls away a little to turn off the tape and unplug it from the wall. “Good night Jan.” 

“Good night Remus.”


	3. We Might be Dead by Tomorrow / Give me all your love now cause all we know is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus is acting strangely, Janus is under the assumption that's his fault.

Remus has been acting strangely, he has been acting strangely since they’d done what they did. Janus is still having a hard time computing it really, even though every waking moment was consumed by the sweet things Remus had said to him, and then the feelings he’d had him feeling. He’s not had a book full of sexual experiences, certainly not with someone who he’d remained in contact with following them; and nobody had ever described him as something one would enjoy looking at. He's not even sure he likes to look at himself for too long, which isn't to say he's ashamed of his scars, he's not. He was a child. He's not to blame for what happened to him. Yet the world around him stares at him as though he belongs in a circus, always with distaste, often with pity, but the worst is when people say he's pretty despite the scars. They're as much a part of him as his good working eye and his blond hair and if someone can only find him attractive despite the burns then they don't really find him attractive at all. 

Remus had not said despite, or because of, just that he is what he is. Despite _that_ , he's not been acting the same since.

The morning after their little escapade Janus’d woken up and gotten dressed and he’d thought everything was fine. He brushed his teeth using Remus’ toothbrush and had a shower in their shower but nothing seemed _wrong_ even if everything was **_different_**. Then he’d woken Remus up before he goes to work, not wanting to leave without saying anything. Remus seemed lethargic but he'd just woken up and nobody can be a morning person every morning, so the smaller man had thought little to nothing of the matter and left the house quietly bypassing Roman in the kitchen on his way out.

He'd gone about his day, as usual. He'd walked to the train station with the morning cold soaking over his body, he'd gotten the train to work and watched the world pass by out of the windows as he waited for his stop. The end of the train line. He'd gotten a coffee on his walk up to the offices, sipping the bitter liquid as he heads up the far too many stairs because he's too anxious to get stuck in an elevator with a stranger. They always stare at him. His colleagues are used to the burns by now but when he'd first been hired as a technician to this company they'd stared too. At this point in his life, Janus expects to be stared at. 

Remus stares at him too, but not the same way, he stares at him like he's...like he makes him _happy_. Really that is the only way any person wishes to be stared at.

He goes about his general day doing mundane tasks, progressively stacking up more coffee cups as time drags on. Time drags more since he'd met Remus (or at least a couple of days since he met Remus, that's about when he started to get very excited to finish his workday and get back to his friend). 

Then, after work, he’d come to visit the way he has been, and Janus realised something is wrong as though it weren't obvious. Remus seemed to tense around him all evening, his eyes unfocused and borderline refusing to meet Janus' own; of course the logical conclusion is that he'd done something wrong. Perhaps he'd overstepped a boundary, had he not realised that Remus was not enjoying himself? He'd seemed eager, but now he's wondering if that was just wishful thinking. Or maybe he just can't wrap his head around being sexually involved with...with himself. Janus is not familiar with relationships and he has no idea how to tell when something has gone askew, or how to prevent them from taking a wrong turn for that matter. 

There is a tension that isn't escapable crackling between them and it makes the blond feel so uncomfortable. He isn't sure what to say or do, and Remus is pointedly avoiding going upstairs to his bedroom.  Roman noticed it too, he’d noticed the strain so unbearable that when the door knocked he’d basically ran to it. Janus met Patton, a trainee nurse with a bubbly sort of smile. He almost made Janus feel better about himself but Remus still seems... _wrong_ , not much like Remus at all. Too quiet, not enough bite or sarcasm, he just looks tired. 

He’d seemed irritated when Janus so much as suggested they talk first. Are they supposed to talk now? Is there something he’s doing or done wrong? He’s too nervous to ask, unsure if he’d like the answer, but he does know he’s making Remus uncomfortable so he excuses himself before dinner is even cooked and walks home. Remus had given him consent, he remembers this. Was he lying? Was he supposed to notice that he was lying? Should he have stopped him?

He does not miss that for the first time he's seen sadness on the other man’s face, it’s not a look that suits him. His eyes are supposed to be bright and his face looks somehow like it isn’t whole without that cheeky grin. Yet, Janus is aware that everybody has their days and it’s not wise to force a sense of happiness onto a person who is in no state to do that. 

As Janus goes home earlier than usual, he hopes Patton does not think it’s because of him because he seems like a very nice man. Respectable, even, certainly admirable in that profession. He suits Roman too, the two of them laugh far too hard and they're...utterly in love, more importantly, anyone with eyes could see that. Janus is not jealous, or at least he's not jealous of Roman or Patton but he'd sort of hoped that he'd feel less alone in their house. He feels lonelier right now than he ever has. It's not their fault or Remus', it's very clearly his own.

He doesn't know how to ask his friend what is wrong and instead of biting the bullet and swallowing his pride, he'd run away. He doesn't want to know or hear how he's hurt Remus he just wants everything to be okay. The unfortunate side effect of your father leaving at eleven years old and then phasing in and out of your life, followed by the untimely loss of a parent, is that nobody has ever really taught him how to deal with these things. How to deal with feelings in general, really.

A week passes and the atmosphere seems the same, Remus starts to smile a little bit more but there’s this look when he looks at Janus that he can’t really place. Uncomfortable, almost yearning for something, the way he stares is like he’s about to burst into tears. Janus isn’t sure he’d know what to do if he did burst into tears. He catches Roman’s eyes as he wanders into the kitchen a little later than usual, and he must look just as exhausted too because the almost-redhead gives him a very sympathetic smile. He feels like a child when he receives a look like that, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. If Roman does not look angry then it’s likely not something he’d done, Roman seems like the sort of person who would not take kindly to someone hurting his family. 

Having said that, it’s not as if he knows much about this family, except that they’re a little _weird_. 

Janus bites the bullet, clearing his throat as he stands awkwardly near Remus’ door like he’s scared to step too far inside. He’s not scared of Remus, he’s scared of the prospect that he, himself, hurt the first man to show him any genuine kindness. The first man to look at him without some semblance of pity. Even his desire for Janus hadn’t come in the form of fetishising his scars, just that with or without them he’d find him pretty. 

No-one has _ever_ thought he was pretty. 

“What’s..." He speaks but his voice trembles and he clears his throat, not sure he could handle _crying_ too. "What did I do?” Janus finally manages out, his back pressing against the closed door in a way that’s supposed to look casual but only makes him appear as a startled child. Or a wounded animal trying to escape.

“What did _you_ do?” Remus asks, his voice catching in his throat with surprise as if he genuinely doesn’t know how Janus reached that conclusion. “Nothing?” 

“Then…” Janus swallows and looks down at his feet for a moment, shuffling on the spot. “...Then what’s wrong, ‘cause you...you’re acting weirdly Re and it’s freaking me out, I…” _‘I finally got a friend,’_ he wants to say. _‘Someone I genuinely like, someone who likes me, I haven’t had that in so long I **cannot** lose you,’_ trust him to latch onto the first pretty boy that smiles at him nicely. He’d never thought of himself as easily attached and he certainly hadn’t considered himself to be a romantic. What he is more than anything is _lonely_ and very much _sick_ of being lonely, no more and no less than that. Remus is the opposite of lonely. He’s what Janus gets when he jumps into a river and pushes the water out of a stranger’s lungs. He's what happens when he dares to care. 

He’d like to get the chance to love him. One day. He thinks he could do that, he makes him feel not lonely and he doesn’t stare at him like he’s some sort of experiment gone wrong. That’s more kindness than Janus has ever had. So he thinks he _could_ love Remus, he seems loveable even when he’s...scaring him a little, like now. 

“I just get like this sometimes,” the brunet mutters with a sigh, rolling onto his stomach and looking up at the other man. “It’s not your fault I’ve just got a weird brain, sometimes people get sad for no reason right?” Janus doesn’t think he’s ever been sad for no reason. He’s been sad for many reasons even if he isn’t sure what it is. But never for no reason. 

“Okay,” he says anyway. 

“Stop hugging the door like a frightened rabbit and come over here will you?” Remus snorts, he still looks tired. He holds out his hand and Janus takes it far too quickly, sliding off his shoes and lying on the bed. Remus rests his head on his chest and closes his eyes. “It ain’t your fault Jan, I swear.” He takes a deep breath in and exhales a little shakily. “...I’m just fuckin’ weird.” Well, that isn’t a lie, but Janus has never thought Remus being weird was _bad_ , it’s just as much who he is as having dark hair or a nice smile. He has such a nice smile, he's missed the smile so much more than strictly necessary for someone he barely knows. If he weren't such a pessimist he'd say he _loves_ Remus' smile, but he's not entirely sure love should come that easily or fast. Fast love ends badly, he'd learned that far too young.

“Okay,” he says again because he doesn’t know what else to say. Instead, he squeezes Remus comfortingly and lets him relax into his body, his eyes falling closed. “So it’s not because...of what we did?” 

“You say we like you were much of an active participant,” he sounds amused, Janus didn’t realise how much he’d missed amusement in Remus’ tone regardless of whether it’s at his own expense or not. “I did most of the work,” he at least has the decency to blush in response. 

“Would you like me to do some of the work?” The blond asks, not bothering to hide the nervousness in his tone. He feels Remus grin against his chest, like the little spark he’d had comes back. 

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t think you’d want to put your mouth anywhere near me,” Janus makes an affronted, sort of strangled noise at the back of his throat. “Usually it’s my job to…” he trails off a little, Janus doesn’t really know what’s wrong until he realises that Remus is staring vacantly at the wall like there’s something particularly interesting to see on the plain, chipped walls. His entire sentence seemed to have dropped from his lips and ran away from him, his gaze fixated on nothing at all yet his thoughts were definitely somewhere. 

“Re?” He asks softly, the taller man startles and looks up at him, eyes wide. 

“Sorry, a different planet for a moment, what was I saying?” Janus hesitates. 

“Do you want me to suck you off?” He asks bluntly, Remus actually looks taken aback for a moment, before quickly gathering his composure. “Because I want to, if you want me too, that is.” He almost looks panicked, like he doesn’t know what to say or what he should say. “It’s not a trick question, what would _you_ like?” 

“I...yes, but...I…” He clears his throat. Janus is a little confused, it's not like the other man to get flustered by bluntness; as far as he can tell so far in their lives coexisting, bluntness is easily his forte. Then, Remus is plastering on a grin that is far too authentic but there’s no way it could be real when he’s _blushing_. Janus had _actually_ made him blush, all he’d done is essentially the same movements that Remus had applied to him a week prior. “Yes,” he finally manages out, untangling his body from Janus’ to lie back on the bed at the same time the smaller man (who for a moment feels much taller and bigger than he is) leans down to kiss him. Whatever Remus was expecting it wasn't the slow drag of their lips and tongues together, far too calm for something he's familiar with. 

Janus can feel him breathe. 

It's all he can focus on for a moment, not the scratch of his beard or the movement of his tongue, but that he can feel his body shake with the slow inhales and exhales, pressing up against him. He kisses him. He doesn't want to stop kissing him. Remus is happy when he's kissing him, he wants him to be happy, wants to make him happy. Happier than he's been. 

The blond holds his own body over the taller man's, his thigh sliding almost naturally between his legs. He feels his partner inhale sharply and can't resist sliding a hand under his shirt, fingertips ghosting his lips. He can feel him breathe. He doesn't know why it matters so much, maybe the circumstances of their meeting threw him for more of a ringer than he'd thought. Maybe he just likes feeling alive. Doesn't everyone? 

He gets the distinct feeling this is a distraction for both of them rather than a genuine expression of expression. Sex makes people happy he knows this, and Remus wasn't happy, so this must make him feel just a little better, right? He doesn't know how any of this works. But he does know when he ducks his head down to suck at Remus' neck he moans softly, and when his fingertips pinch lightly at the pert bud of his nipple he shudders. He knows when his lips kiss gently down his chest he arches a little, and when his lips ghost a ticklish spot just over his ribs he jolts with a breathless laugh. He knows these things are generally accompanied with the feeling of happiness. 

He tugs his wallet out of his pocket and slides a condom out of it. 

"Cheeky bastard, you were expecting this," Remus mutters, half-smiling in the setting sunlight. 

"Fail to prepare..." Janus mutters back, just a little amused. Remus rolls his eyes a little, for a second his partner thinks that the taller man looks...nervous, somehow, as Janus slides his pyjama pants down his thighs. He doesn't understand why he'd be nervous though, he's sure Remus has had his cock sucked plenty of times. He's fairly open about his inability to sit still long enough, he's always got an itch to scratch whether it be sex or alcohol or something else. Always one or another. 

Janus opens the condom wrapper with his teeth whilst the other wraps around Remus' cock, more focused on the former than the latter but then he applies a little more pressure and Remus whimpers. Now he's definitely paying attention, rolling the condom on and leaning down to take him down his throat in a movement too fast, he chokes, but he doesn't really mind too much. "Don't bite off more than you can chew," Remus mutters, sounding far more breathless than he did five minutes prior to this. It would be amusing if Janus wasn't so concentrated on what he's doing. He hollows out his cheeks and bobs his head, using his tongue to apply a little more pressure. 

Remus bites down on his hand, unsure if it's to keep him quiet or because he enjoys the sharp sting a little bit more than he cares to admit. The noises he makes are muffled by this action regardless, which they're both a little thankful for. 

Once more, neither of them really want Roman aware of their activities. Which is a great deal more kindness than Remus' usual partners have given him, but he thinks a lot of those men got a strange kick of him being unable to look his brother in his eyes regularly. 

He's not thinking about that right now though, his free hand trembles as it runs through Janus' hair, eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on the heat and pressure surrounding his cock, making him jolt a little as he sinks into the mattress. He tries not to buck into the heat, tries rather well not to moan too loudly or with too much forcefulness. Tries his hardest not to shake too, but the truth is Remus is not used to this. He's not used to being the one pleasured, he can't remember the last time another person got him off but these are all things Janus does not need to know so he tries hard to act normal. Tries not to show how crazy it's driving him, how his body feels so hot. How his head spins with the far too loud moan of his partner's name. 

He lasts longer than he'd expected himself too, his hips jolting as his entire body tenses then unwinds with the stimulation, twitching in Janus' mouth (and hands, which are caressing his thighs far too gently and far too soothingly). His back arches and the hand that was caressing the blond strands of hair tightens so hard that the other man moans around him accidentally. 

Remus worries, for a long second, that he might cry. 

Not because he's sad, even though he is sad he's been sad all week. But because he really cannot remember the last time anyone did this for him. It means nothing to Janus, should mean even less to himself. He gathers his composure and exhales shakily whilst the condom is rolled off his length, tied off and shoved into the condom wrapper. The smaller man presses a soft kiss to his partner's lips very chastely, it's domestic and it makes Remus shiver far more than the orgasm did. He pulls up his own pants as the other man discards the condom and its wrapper to the overflowing wastepaper basket. He doesn't say anything and even if he did he wouldn't know what to say, he just rolls onto his side and lets Janus lie behind him, his arm resting around his waist as his lips press a gentle kiss to the back of Remus' neck. 

Janus does not really notice anything wrong, he squeezes the taller man in his arms gently, asks him if he's okay. He gets back a soft laugh that sounds almost strangled, but he puts it down to the general scrambled feeling of an orgasm. "I'm okay," Remus finally says, closing his eyes. "Just tired, go to sleep Jan." So he does. 


	4. Do You Go Up? // Do I make waves in your body love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus has a day off work, Remus has a day off work, their inability to keep their hands off of each other shows.

Janus has the day off work today; he doesn’t often have days off being a technician as someone always seems to need him to do something, but he’d taken the day off. Without much thought he finds himself out of the twins’ home, knocking quietly on the door and waiting for it to be opened. It’s around 10am, and a Wednesday, so Roman would have left for work hours ago. Unless, of course, he too had taken the day off but that would be an _unfortunate_ stroke of luck. 

_Not_ that Janus dislikes Roman’s presence, but there are certain things that brothers should not have to overhear. Despite that, the elder twin found it nothing short of amusing when Janus had wandered downstairs in the early morning to get to work, when the night prior Remus’ moans had been echoing off the walls. Janus thinks that perhaps Roman finds it funny when he gets embarrassed, Remus doesn’t really, but he supposes the two have lived together long enough by now. Still, he would rather not have an audience in any capacity. 

Remus opens the door wearing jogging bottoms and a vest and a very wide grin. “You took your time,” he comments. “I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten to come,” despite the grin and the tinge of amusement in his voice, the smaller man does note the little bit of fear that accompanies his expression. It’s a soft look, where Remus takes a deep breath in and his eyes scan frantically over Janus’ face as if reading for any sign that he hadn’t wanted to come. 

“You’re a hard person to forget,” Janus replies, stepping inside, he leans up to kiss his friend gently, the front door falling shut behind them. His back leans against it as the taller man presses him to it, his hand leaning above the blond’s head. A little rush like electricity crackles between their bodies as Janus’ hands fall to Remus’ hips, his lips parting and tongue brushing against the other man’s. It isn’t fast, it’s...it’s almost like he’s documenting the curve of Remus’ body and the glide of their tongues together in some warm rush that occupies his mind. 

“I’m glad,” Remus whispers as they pull away, he grins again and presses a gentle kiss to the other man’s lips, leaning up to lock the door. “I was hoping you’d come today, I even prepared a little.” Janus’ heart skips several beats in his chest as a hand finds his and tugs. He wants to protest a little as he’s dragged up the stairs because they have a habit of not talking about these things and then suffering the consequences. 

He’s not sure he knows what to do when Remus is sad, least of all know what to do when he’s sad _because_ of him. He opens his mouth to speak as the bedroom door closes behind them, but only finds his mouth occupied by the dark-haired man’s. He sinks into the kiss, forgetting rather quickly what he had to say, shivering in the touch of tongue and the hand that slides underneath his t-shirt. 

When they pull away again, his smaller body caged against the closed wooden door, he goes to speak but all his words are falling over each other. Before Janus can even manage to find them, there’s a hand between his legs, squeezing. His head falls back against the door, breath running short over his lips as he stares up at the other man (who is _surely_ trying to give him a heart attack, of this he is distinctively aware). “What do you want me to do?” He finally asks. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Remus replies, a little too brightly and forcefully. Janus leans up off the wall and pushes him towards the bed. _“...hard.”_ The blond growls against Remus’ lips, pushing him down onto the bed and trapping the taller body underneath his own, his teeth sink against Remus’ lip and the high-pitched, almost whimpered moan that pulls from him in response has Janus’ hips jerking down. He likes being told when he’s doing a good job, so it’s definitely nice to have the house to themselves. 

His hands slide up Remus’ vest, tugging it off his body and discarding it to the pile of...everything, on Remus’ floor. He ducks his head down to suck at the pale skin of Remus’ collarbone, tugging it between his teeth and abusing it with his mouth; the other man jerks up against him wantonly, rocking his hips us as best as he can, searching for the slightest bit of friction he can find. 

“How do you want it?” Janus asks like he’s done this a million times before. He hasn’t, he’s done it once, and he was on the receiving end, and his face had been pressed into a bathroom stall. It had hurt in a very... _delicious_ sort of way. 

“From the back,” Remus manages out, shuddering as Janus’ fingers hook around his jogging pants and slide them, and his underwear down his legs. Then the smaller man grips his thigh and manhandles him onto his hands and knees. The hands trail up his thighs, following the curve of his ass and squeezing. 

“Is that…?”

“I told you I prepared,” Remus laughs breathlessly. Janus’ fingertips run between the cheeks of his ass, over the base of a plug that is currently stretching him open. He can’t help it, he pushes a little, Remus’ cock twitches in response, a quiet moan running over his lips, his hands tightening in the bedsheets. “Please get the fuck in me.” The blond doesn’t waste a second on that, tugging his shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor, his hands undoing his belt buckle. He stands up for a moment, kicking off his shoes, then his pants and underwear hit the ground too, he grabs his wallet out of his pants and then the condom (or one of them anyway) that he keeps inside the folds. He strokes his own cock as he rips open the wrapper with his teeth, feeling himself harden under his own touch before he can roll on the condom, the wrapper left on the bed. 

“Lube?” He asks. 

“I’m fine,” Remus replies, wiggling his hips a little, it’s actually quite a cute action that has Janus snorting lightly, easing the plug out of the other man and shuffling closer. 

He’s never fucked someone before, he understands the logistics, he knows it’s probably quite an intense pleasure. Then, he sinks into Remus slowly and his eyes roll with a grunted noise that is neither loud or quiet, feeling the warmth and tightness surrounding his cock. 

Remus leans his weight on his forearms, his head resting down against them as he rocks his hips backwards, quiet and breathless noises on his lips as their hips meet. The blond rests his hands on his partner’s hips, his fingertips pressing not firmly, but with a supporting grip as he drags his hips back and pushes back in, slowly picking up his speed with each thrust. The sensation sends little shocks through his body of burning arousal, each more intense than the last. Remus starts to meet his thrusts, their hips slamming together as he pushes his body to meet every surge forward, his moans becoming louder and more frantic, his naked body flushed. 

Janus’ nails dig into Remus’ hips just a little until he leans over him, leaning his weight on one hand whilst the other moves to the front of Remus’ body, hand sliding down his stomach to tug at his half-hard cock. The elder man shivers and rolls his hips even more frantically, whimpering, gasping, the noises he makes louder and unrestrained. His too-thin body trembles with the exertion, sweat sticking to his skin and making him shine in the dull sunlight that carves into the room from the window. 

The smaller man thinks it’s got to be the most erotic sight he’s ever seen, when Remus lifts his head just a little, breath catching in his tightened chest whilst he pants and jolts and rocks back on the cock filling him up. His face is some picture of ecstasy, tangled up in lust. Janus cannot decide if it’s the sensation of bringing someone else pleasure, or the sheer desire of meeting his own pleasurable end, that fuels him the most. 

He jerks Remus’ cock in his hand as he fucks into him with all the energy and strength his has, arousal coiling up and knotting in his abdomen with every frantic thrust, but he holds it back as well as he can, he controls it to some degree. He wants Remus to come, he wants to give him that at least. 

His friend’s thighs shake underneath him, hands gripping the bed sheet, his face twisted in euphoria as his moans lose all sense of control, echoing off the walls and perhaps into the world outside of their little safe haven in this room. That would be nice, to have that bleed into the outside world. Remus grips the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white, his thighs tensing as his hips press back against Janus.   
The blond catches Remus’ face as he comes, body jerking and twitching as he whimpers out Janus’ name, repeatedly. Like he couldn’t say it enough times. Like he’s _thanking_ him. He tightens around the other man’s cock as he does so, and Janus hips twitch as he releases into the condom, shifting into the heat in slowing movements. 

Remus looks like he’s about to pass out. 

Janus does not entirely blame him. 

He pulls out slowly and pushes the condom off of his softening cock, tying it off and sliding it into the wrapper. Then, he stands and discards it to the overflowing wastepaper basket. Remus lies down on his back, his head hangs off of the end of the bed by an inch as he stare vacantly, breathing heavily. Janus’ eyes trail over the other man’s naked body with some reverie. He grabs some kitchen roll off the floor, leaning down to wipe off the sheets that Remus’ come had gotten onto. He discards this too. 

“Are you okay?” Remus looks up at him at the question, giving a very small smile. Suddenly, he too looks very small, unnerved to some degree. But his smile widens and he sits up to slide into the bed covers, not wanting to get cold. 

“Fine and dandy,” then he pats the space in the bed next to him for his friend to slide in. 

Janus does not have much else to say or do, but for a moment he catches Remus’ expression, it’s the same distant look. Like he’s not in the room for the moment, but somewhere else, lost in his own thoughts. 

“Re?” He asks, worried. 

“Hm?” Remus looks over to him and smiles. “Sorry, different planet again, let’s smoke.” Janus doesn’t know if that’s a good idea either, his worry does not dissipate. But if there’s one thing he’s learned in the past few weeks of knowing this man, it’s that he will not give an answer unless he wants too. Remus is the _king_ of avoiding a question.

The taller man reaches down the side of his bed to pick up a medium-sized wooden box, it has a celtic knot engraved into the lid and the wood looked well treated, this is his ‘smoke box’ which contains all sorts of paraphernalia and often leaves Janus wondering how the neighbors haven’t clock that this house always smells like marijuana. 

Also _where_ does he get it from? How does one just go outside and locate the means to getting baked in the late morning? 

Janus doesn’t really do drugs, he barely drinks either, or at least he didn’t until he met Remus. The last few weeks he’d drank more than he had in an entire year. He hadn’t smoked since he were in high school either, bar cigarettes, and even that was a one-off to satiate some curiosity. 

In essence, he’s aware that he’s a little _boring_ if nothing else. 

But he accepts the joint when it’s handed to him, lighting it with Remus’ choice of lighter today; a hot pink clipper that has numerous scratches in it and looks like it might’ve been painted. He doesn’t know how one man has so many lighters, or why he needs them; he’s under assumption that maybe Remus forgets his lighter, gets to work and needs a cigarette, and ends up buying another lighter. 

He has five clippers, two weirdly transparent ones (one of which doesn’t even work anymore), a battered candle lighter, and a gorgeously engraved zippo that looks far too expensive to be in either of their possessions. 

Remus sits up against the headboard, staring straight ahead with a distant expression, the joint burns in his trembling hands as his eyebrows furrow. Janus follows his gaze but he can’t see what he’s seeing, he suspects that there’s nothing in the physical world that Remus is currently seeing. That worries him a little. He knew they should’ve talked first, and he’s starting to see a pattern. 

He doesn’t necessarily know if what his friend is currently thinking of is bad, but he certainly seems to have a habit of zoning out after they have some sort of intimacy. Like the entire world is right there and he just...cannot _see it_. Janus would love to see inside his head, find out what he is or isn’t thinking of. But the moment Remus’ gaze snaps back to his immediate surroundings he pulls on this too-wide smile. 

“Is something wrong?” Janus asks, knowing already that it’s fruitless. 

“Nope,” Remus’ voice comes out cheerful, energetic. “Just daydreaming.” He brings the joint to his lips, takes a deep inhale with the paper burning out with his breathing. Then he exhales the cloud into the room. 

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive, now come here and kiss me,” Janus laughs softly, and leans over to kiss him, he tastes like weed, and chocolate. 

He doesn’t ask again, because he doesn’t want to annoy Remus, and for all he knows Remus’ zone-out spells are not a bad thing, he might just think a lot. When Janus has a lot of work to do he tends to zone out planning his steps in great detail. For all he knows Remus could be planning something just as devious as what they’d just done. 

So he shuts up. And he smokes. 

The two play a few rounds of poker, eventually transitioning to smoking normal cigarettes. Remus drinks a pint of beer, but he’s not drunk, these days he’s wondering if it would take a whole truck to intoxicate him. You would think someone that tall and that skinny would take more issue with alcohol, but no, luck would have it that he’s drank enough to build a tolerance the size of the eiffel tower. 

Janus soon forgets the Remus-sized worry he had dwelling in the pits of his stomach, because once the other man starts laughing and teasing him and flicking cards at his face...he just can’t imagine Remus sad at all. He knows he does get sad, he saw him sad and uncomfortable for a whole week, and a bit. But someone who laughs like that, so practiced and free...it’s just hard to imagine them as anything else but happy. So he lets himself believe that Remus is happy, he has no evidence to suggest he’s anything else. 

After losing a particularly intense round of poker, Remus crawls into Janus’ lap, straddling his bare thighs. The blankets free of his body, Janus stares at the other man’s naked skin with a breathlessness that he hadn’t considered himself capable of having. His friend is just rather pretty, not necessarily because of any distinguishing features he has, but that smile. He has such a nice smile, mischievous and playful and...alluring. Then there’s the fact he’s Remus. Janus really, _really_ likes Remus. 

And once again, as he rests his hands on the other man’s bare hips, he finds himself thinking that he hopes one day he gets the chance to love him too. Like is a strong enough word for now, like is not even something he’s had before, but he’d like to know what it’s like to fall in love and he’d especially like to know what it’s like to fall in love with Remus. 

_And that smile._

Janus tilts his head up with a calm smile on his lips, accepting the quick peck with a flutter in his heartbeat. He feels uselessly like a hopeless romantic. His thumb draws circles on the skin it can access, before one hand slides up Remus’ spine, feeling the skin underneath his fingertips (he’s a little cold, but soft, his skin is very soft, with small bumps of acne that he hadn’t quite gotten rid of yet). He parts his lips to accept another kiss, open-mouthed and deep. Remus presses to him, shuffling closer in his lap. Janus can feel his cock against the skin of his stomach and leans into the touch. 

He likes this feeling. Him, naked, Remus naked, feeling his skin, feeling him shiver and shift against him, capturing the sighs of content in between his own teeth and tongue. It’s calm. A distinct calmness where his heart rate explodes in his chest and he feels like he needs to sink into the bed and dissolve. His body feels so...warm, even with the open window pouring the british autumn breeze into the room. His hands document Remus’ body on top of his own, palms pressing to his sides and back and hips, and upto his shoulders. 

Then down to his thighs, squeezing gently at his thin legs, witnessing the way his jolts against him. 

His hand moves inwards, wrapping almost naturally around Remus’ cock, feeling him squirm on top of him, swallowing the sigh of relief the touch brings him. He squeezes him gently in his hand, and then begins to stroke teasingly, enjoying the sensation of him slowly hardening against his palm. 

The taller man shuffles around, rocking his body down against Janus’ cock, which is rewarded by the smaller man pressing up against him, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. 

He’s starting to think Remus cannot be satiated, that this is something he yearns for even when he’s alone. It’s probably impolite to ask a man how many partners he’s had before, but Janus does wonder, someone as pretty as Remus, no matter how rugged and explosive that prettiness is, must have had many partners. How anyone could keep their hands off him is a wonder in itself. 

There’s just something unique about the fire in his eyes, the expressions he can demonstrate, the curve of his back, the smiles he gives. It’s not hair, or eyes, or skin, although all of these things of nice, it’s something about Remus that makes him so...addictive. To Janus, at least, he’s found plenty of men hot, but he finds Remus to be something he could not let go of if he tried. 

The dark-haired man leans over to the bedside table, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He procures a bottle of lube and presses it into Janus’ hand. The blond does not second guess, he doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t think his friend would appreciate that; he is not nearly sentimental enough for that. 

Janus stretches him open with his head leaned back to the wall, watching Remus face as he presses his finger into him, moving them inside of him. His body rocks into the touch, eyes lidded with flushed cheeks, capturing his own lip between his teeth whilst his hands grip Janus’ shoulders. 

He could’ve watched him all day, he looks like a work of art, or a car crash; something you cannot look away from, that makes time feel like it halts or run backwards, or maybe goes far too fast at the same time. 

He rides his hand for a moment before that look comes back, that ‘more’ and restlessness that he’s so good an inhabiting. Janus grabs another condom and strokes his cock back into hardness, rolling it on with one hand as the other slides from inside Remus. 

The other man takes him in quickly, nails leaving small half-moon marks to his partner’s skin in some small demonstration of possessive intent. If either of them had any desire to be owned at any point in their life it would be for a moment like that. Remus’ eyes fall shut and his head bows in a demonstration of his energy draining from his body for a second of relaxation. He enjoys the feeling of being full for about thirty seconds before he leans down to kiss Janus warmly. 

It’s lazier, slower, Remus’ body is not built for over-exertion, he’s barely anything but bone and that contributes to an eternal exhaustion that his brain struggles to catch up on. He’s so restless, and has no energy to submit to that desire to always be moving. Janus rocks up into the other man, no longer consumed by a desire to fuck and far too focused on the other man’s dry lips on his own, or the brush of his tongue, or his hands on his skin. The torturous movements over their bodies rocking into and onto each other drives them both insane in a static sort of way. 

Remus leans up after a few minutes, or maybe more than that, neither of them are watching a clock right now. “Do you mind if I smoke?” he asks with a much softer tone than intended. 

“Be my guest,” Janus hums, dragging the ashtray a little closer. The brunet slides a cigarette between his lips and lights it, inhaling with a drag that has his shoulders raising a little. He tilts his head back and exhales, leaning over to the ashtray to flick the ash down. The blonde can’t help but smile in admiration, leaning his head back as his hand strokes Remus’ cock, his own hips shifting with the rolls of Remus’. He accepts the cigarette with his free hand as he offered it, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger to take a drag. 

Remus takes it back almost delicately, grinning down at his partner. “Mind if we switch positions? My thighs are killing me.”

“Sure,” He wraps an arm around Remus, the other squeaks in response, gripping his shoulders with a laugh of surprise as he’s lifted up and lay down almost...almost with the same delicacy one would treat the preserved skeleton of a long-dead leaf. Janus rests his head against Remus neck and fucks into him neither fast nor slowly, enjoying the drag of their bodies and not wanting to disturb his friend’s smoking session. 

Last thing that needs doing is accidentally burning the bed sheets this much is for sure. He kisses his neck sweetly instead, sucking very small and pale bruises into his neck. So small there’s a large doubt they would still be there in the next morning.

Remus drops the cigarette in the ashtray with an exhale of smoke, his arm wrapping around the back of Janus’ neck, resting his own back against the pillow as he shifts his hips lazily into their movements. 

Finally, the need for release becomes almost painful and Janus leans over the other’s body and picks up his speed slowly at first, looking down at the other man as his hands trail to grip the back of his thighs. Remus’ back arches as Janus leans up, pushing Remus’ legs up towards his chest as he fucks into him. “Fuck...fuck...Jan…” he moans, eyes falling shut as his own hand wraps around his cock, jerking himself up in time to the rapidly increasing thrusts. 

Janus is fairly certain he’ll remember seeing Remus’ face like that for the rest of his life, his hands shaking as come leaks over his stomach, falling against his chest, his body arching as he heaves in huge breaths that hitch as Janus fucks him through it. He whimpers and jolts, his free hand balled in a fist at his side as he climaxes. 

Janus eases his still hard cock out of the other the moment he sees him wincing, Remus’s legs fall spread against the bed as he shifts closer. “I’m going to need a shower anyway,” he utters, his lips pulled in a drained, lazy smile as a finger drags against the cooling fluid on his skin. The look he gives Janus, spreading his legs a little further like he’s begging. Then his hand reaches out to grip Janus’ cock, tugging a little. The smaller man leans over his body as his friend peels the condom off and wraps his hand around his bare cock. 

Janus shiver, eyes half-shut but unable to resist looking down to watch Remus stroking him, quick and concentrated, pulling him further and further towards his orgasm. 

He almost collapses, his arms shaking, when he comes over Remus’ skin, his eyebrows drawn in towards each other, moaning out his partner’s name so forcefully he feels the word vibrate in his chest, his hips jolting into the fist milking him through his climax. 

“Shit,” he mutters, lowering himself down, his head resting to the other man’s collarbone, grinning against the sweaty skin. “Now we both need a shower,” he snorts a little, laughing quietly but breathlessly. “Shit...you’re...fuck, Rem,” he leans up and kisses him, unable to find the words he’s looking for. “Thank you,” he finally settles on, peeling their bodies away from each other. Remus only smiles in response, catching his friend’s hand as they both drag their aching bodies to the bathroom. 

The hot water is a welcome relief, soothing his aching muscles and cleaning off their skin. 

Then they manage to pull on some underwear and get back into bed. Janus doesn’t want to let go of Remus and doesn’t want to stop looking at him either. 

He doesn’t know what that means, but it’s not a scary feeling to have. That’s just what happens at the start of relationships, right? People get attached, they get that rush of hormones that makes you think you love them but it’s far too soon to do that. You’ve got to see someone furious, and heartbroken, and awful, before you can love them. At least, that’s what Janus thinks, that you can’t just love someone without knowing the hard sides to them. Every human has them, bad sides, corrupt sides, parts that are hard to deal with. Even him. 

Even Remus, he’s sure of that. 

They sit there and talk tiredly, Remus puts on a different tape, The Smiths this time, it’s depressing but it makes Janus laugh. “He sounds like he needs winding up,” he comments with a chuckle “...like a wind up toy.” Remus laughed too, agreeing. 

The time must have passed quicker than they thought because the front door opens as the sun begins its descent. “Food!” Remus cheers. 

“Learn to fucking cook,” Janus snorts. 

Roman’s footsteps patter up the stairs, he knocks on the door before entering when he’s told he can. He stares into the room, waving a hand in front of his face. “Christ,” he mutters, an amused look on his face. “How did you manage to hotbox the room with the window open,” Janus points towards Remus like a child being caught doing something wrong and immediately shifting the blame to someone else. “This entire room smells like sex and weed, get some damn air freshner out of the bathroom, I bought chippy, so dinner’s ready.” 

“Thank you,” Janus replies as Remus practically falls out of the bed at the mention of dinner. “We forgot to eat today.” He explains, as if Remus wouldn’t have the same reaction if he’d eaten all day consistently and without fail. Not that either of them know that because it would appear Remus doesn’t notice when he’s hungry until the inevitable sound of Roman opening the door. 

“See you in a minute,” the elder twin shakes his head like he’s a father to two absolute trainwrecks of men. Sometimes, that is how Janus manages to feel around the elder man. Like a child. But not in a bad way. Janus never had a real father, and it would appear neither did Roman and Remus. In some ways, there’s a little bit of pity there because Remus looks up to Roman so greatly one could describe their relationship as paternal rather than brotherly; but who does Roman have to look up to? And if he did would it be a continuous cycle of people who had nobody so they adopted their friends or other family members as someone to care for, hoping in turn it would show them how to care for themselves?

It’s likely rude to have such a speculation. 

Janus cancels the thought and drags himself out of bed to get some proper clothes on. It’s not for him to have those sort of thoughts. Roman doesn’t need pity, he’s far too strong for that. Neither does Remus, who has got to be the most wonderful person Janus has ever had the privilege to meet. It’s a shame he doesn’t know how to be self-sufficient though, is that something he should teach him? How to look after himself? Is that what friends or potential partners do? 

He doesn’t want to do anything that might upset the other man, however. He doesn’t want to impose himself in any situation he may not be welcome. 

It’s already bad enough that Roman is now buying him dinner. 

But the elder man looks happy to have the company as they all sit down at the table, so Janus sheds his anxiety for some friendly banter as Roman complains about his day at work. Remus complains that his back is hurting and Janus goes a few shades more red than necessary. Roman just finds it funny however, reaching for his fork. “Just shove a few pillows under your back next time,” he snorts, cutting the lid off of his pie. 

“Speaking from experience?” Remus bites back, Roman just raises his eyebrow in response, pushing a chunk of steak from his pie into his mouth. 

“Maybe.” 

_“Christ,”_ Janus mutters, shaking his head as the two start to bicker, but he’s grinning. Actually, he’s _ecstatic_. This is what families should be like, this is the family he never had. It’s amazing how quickly things can change. Four weeks, and a little bit more, and Janus has people he might actually consider home. 

It’s a welcome relief from what he’d considered family before which consisted of sitting at a table that got smaller by the year, until suddenly he was sat at it alone. Silence, that’s how he saw his position in a family before. Sitting in silence, the scrapes of knives and forks. Arguing, anger, that’s all he’d known growing up. Then silence. 

Janus is glad they argue and laugh at the same time. That’s a family. 

He supposes that must be what happens when people have to make their own family, you fill in the gaps with what you have and make up for what you don’t. 

He cleans the cutlery after dinner, and takes the containers out to the bins before coming back inside. “Remus ran upstairs,” Roman informs him, grabbing the morning newspaper off the counter to head to the living room. “Try not to do his back in completely, he has work tomorrow,” he’s joking and smiling when he says it, but Janus’ ears burn with the hot flush of embarrassment. That just makes the elder brother laugh a little, shaking his head.

Remus is lying on his stomach on the bed with his head on his arms, his eyes closed as the music lulls his tired body into relaxation. “Are you staying tonight?” he asks softly without opening his eyes. 

“I even brought a change of clothes this time,” Janus slides into the bed next to the other man. His arm rests over Remus’ back, eyes falling shut just after he catches the small smile to his friend’s lips. 

They just listen to the music in silence, both figuring out they used far too much energy sitting in one room and letting the time pass. Janus doesn’t care what they do really, he doesn’t care if they don’t go out, or if they stay in, if they fuck or they don’t. He’s just very glad he gets to spend time with Remus at all.


	5. I'm Not A Saint // I'm not here unless I'm by your side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus doesn’t really stop thinking about Remus, but still, that’s just how crushes work, right?

Janus’ entire life had managed to flip around in the space of a month and a half; everything about the things he'd usually done and the rhythm he had, has completely changed in a way he could _never_ have predicted. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just strange. He’s happy things have changed, he wasn’t really happy before and he’d certainly consider himself happier now. He enjoys Remus’ company, he likes him... _a lot_. 

He likes Roman too, more the way someone would like an older brother. And Roman’s boyfriend, practically husband, Patton, is a radiant ball of sunshine; when they all eat together, it is the closest to a family Janus has ever had. All the chatter and teasing and the complaints of the day, fed around to each other like they’re just happy to co-exist in this space.

Was that all he wanted? A family? Perhaps. 

He likes Remus more than he could dare to admit aloud, he spends most of his time away from the other man thinking about him, and all the time with him considering that he never wants to leave. The two of them, curled up in a single blanket of a bed far too small for two people, fogging up the windows with smoke and friction. Not every day, but most days, and on the days he doesn’t see Remus he finds himself lying in his own bed staring up at the ceiling listening to a battered Echo and the Bunnymen tape. That, or pleasuring himself to a memory of that wonderful expression on his friend’s face as he lay underneath him.

He doesn’t _dare_ say it though, he doesn’t dare think it either, that word that sometimes pops into his mind. The concept of love is damaged to Janus. It’s probably fractured to Remus too, if the very little he knows of two brothers living alone is anything to go off of. 

Still, the thought of the other man gives him a distinct feeling of butterflies, a giddy sort of high-school crush feeling. He can barely take his mind off of kissing him or gripping his hips, or the excitement of just seeing the other man at all. He, arguably, has some sort of infatuation with Remus, but can’t quite derive what those feelings are yet, he’s only known him six weeks after all. Six weeks is not enough time to know someone, you can know their shell and their body but the workings of their soul are still lost to a barrier of time.

So, he goes about his day doing his job, working on the computer and filling out paperwork. 

A colleague notes he’s looking more cheerful than usual, and Janus just dismisses it tiredly. The coworker asks him if he’d finally found a girl, but the blond just laughs in response, shaking his head, saying he doesn’t have time for things like that. He bites back a joke about how anyone could find a face like this pretty, but then he finds he doesn’t really think that’s true. Maybe he should stop joking about that, maybe that’s the first step to not believing it. 

Instead he just tells him he’s been working with a local family, and it’s been nice to get out of the house a little bit to help them out. The colleague seems surprised but impressed that the quiet little blond had managed to make acquaintances, accepting this explanation before continuing about his day. 

His entire day just runs slower now, it’s all coffee cups and staring at the seconds as they tick by like torture. It’s sickening just how much he misses his friend, his only friend...his best friend? Yeah, Remus is his best friend but the friendship pool is kind of small so he’s not sure how much a title like that means in this sense. 

When the end of the day comes Janus has his bag packed and his work organised so that he can escape at a pace unknown to man. He practically runs to the station to jump on the early train in a split second before the doors slam shut behind him. The grin on his face at his achievement is something strange too, he never used to smile in public, he was always too worried about what people think of him. The less attention he’d garnered would be for the best. But being around Remus has taught him that shame is a wasted emotion in almost every situation. Plus, he doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of, he taught that one to himself it’s just very hard to put into practice.

After work, Janus stops off at the corner shop for some milk and bread before heading to the twins’ home. He knocks twice before walking in with a shout to the kitchen to see who’s home, he hears the floor creak upstairs, meaning Remus is finally dragging himself out of his bedsheet-prison, and Roman’s voice from the kitchen. 

The blond heads to the kitchen first to put the plastic bag of shopping down on the table, a cheerful smile on his face which falters when he sees Roman looking rather tired in the kitchen. “Are you... _okay?”_ He asks softly, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he takes in the larger man’s rather resigned look; but all he gets back is a small smile and a shallow nod in response, the other man placing down the small glass of whiskey on the counter. “I...uh...am I out staying my welcome?” 

Roman laughs then, shaking his head. “You…” he points to him rather purposefully “...you keep Remus out of trouble, you’re welcome here for as long as you’ll put up with him.” He leans up off the counter and glances up on the clock. “No, I’m not upset with you by any measure, actually it’s nice to see Remus laugh once in a while, I’ve just had a stressful day, early morning shift...and my boss is one of those people who don’t really care if his workers live or die.” 

“Have you considered, you know...unions?” The word somehow comes out more hushed, like it’s something they’re not supposed to talk about. 

“Sure, but I need a job, and pretty much the only job I can work is in a warehouse, and there’s not really a safe way to lift things almost as heavy as your own bodyweight...at least we don’t have to work twelve-hour shifts anymore.” He gives a tight sort of smile, and the exhaustion is heavy in his eyes. “But it’s fine, I’m fine, it’s just what I have to do for now...or forever, I don’t know, it’s not really up to me is it?” Janus blanches a little with no response immediate to his thoughts. He hadn’t considered that the reason that Roman lives with Remus, and not his high school sweetheart, is because Remus needs him to be there. 

But the rest of their lives can’t be this, can it? Remus doesn’t really do much but work and sleep and work and sleep and...and Roman just looks _tired_. He works himself to the bone. 

Janus is well aware of the fact that now is just a time in either of his or Remus’ relationship to say ‘hey you can move in with me!’ He doesn’t know Remus well enough for that at all, and whilst his job could certainly support the two of them it’s just...too fast. 

No matter how much he feels like some part of him yearns for that, he knows that’s just the giddy infatuation of a somewhat new relationship.

The last thing either of them would want is to find out in the worst way possible that they get on each other’s nerves. “I suppose not,” he muttered. “Would you like me to make dinner?” 

“Oh no, dinner is the only thing I enjoy making.” He gives a small smile. “Go and canoodle or whatever it is you two do.”  
“Play poker, mostly,” Janus replies, with a light blush on his cheeks despite the fact that’s not a lie, it is what they _mostly_ do. 

“Mhm,” the knowing look has him shrinking a little, squeaking out a goodbye as Janus leaves Roman be and goes upstairs to Remus, kicking his shoes off at the door to the room. The other man is still in bed despite the fact it’s starting to enter evening, he lifts his head tiredly to see Janus, smiling and holding out a hand. The bed creaks under his weight with the movement, rolling on his side to let his friend have some room on the quaint mattress. 

The smaller man pulls off his shirt and clambers into bed, wrapping an arm around Remus a little too much like a protector. His own tiredness seems to hit the moment he crawls under the covers, their bodies tangling in one another’s instinctively. Remus feels warm, a little too warm but he has been sheltering under stifling covers so it’s not that much of a surprise. His breath comes out against the smaller man’s collarbones, his hands pressing flat to the skin of his back; Janus can feel his body inhaling and exhaling, it lulls him in a way no soft song ever could. 

Remus’ breathing is pretty much the only feeling he wants to feel or a very long time. A lullaby that doesn’t need to be sung.

His eyes fall shut and though he doesn’t feel like he’s sleeping, he does drift off in a very brief slumber, drifting in and out of consciousness until a knock at the door has him dragging his eyes open, turning to see Roman stood in the doorway. A soft smile crosses the elder twin’s face, eyebrow slightly raised. “Well, aren’t you two domestic?” He doesn’t sound teasing even if he was trying to be, he just looks...almost _relieved_ in a way. “Dinner’s ready when you are,” he gives a small smile, Janus gives a tired but thankful one back. 

“Thank you, Roman,” Janus replies, looking down at the man half drooling on his chest. “We’ll be down in a moment.” the larger man nods and closes the door quietly, his steps retreating back down the stairs. The blond looks down at Remus, how peaceful he looks mostly asleep, but his stomach growls a little bit and he resigns himself to the task of untangling their bodies. “Dinner’s ready, Re,” he utters gently, slightly shaking the other’s shoulder. Remus peels his heavy eyelids open, sleep clinging to them. For a moment he looks almost unwell, like he has a distinct migraine, or is running a fever. 

“I’m not hungry,” he mutters, his eyes barely open. 

“You need to eat though,” Janus replies, a little unnerved by the taller man’s lack of appetite. Remus makes a grumbled noise, his jaw tensing as he prises his eyes open, he stares at the pillow for a moment before dragging his body up slowly, as though he weighs so much more at that moment. Janus notes that he looks even paler than usual, almost sickly as he brings a fist up to his eyes and rubs them. He doesn’t really know what’s happening, but he doesn’t know how to ask. He stares for a long moment, lips pursed in thought before he sighs and runs a hand through Remus’ hair. 

“I’ll eat the rest of it, don’t worry.” Remus cracks a smile at that, leaning his head briefly against Janus’ shoulder and nuzzling against him, before dragging his body out of bed. Janus gives him a worried expression, seeing how lethargic he looks and how slowly he walks. Was he coming down with something? It’s not really flu season yet but the nights are sure getting colder and shorter, maybe he should buy his friend another blanket. There’s nothing wrong with having an extra blanket.

They sit down to dinner and Remus practically curls up in the chair, resting his head on the palm of his hand as he chews the toast very slowly. Once he’s finished, he pushes the plate towards Janus, who picks the bacon and sausages off of the plate. Roman and Janus talk, but Remus seems to have no need or urge for a discussion, instead just drawing his knees up and folding his arms atop them, head resting on his forearms. 

Throughout the whole meal Janus glances at him with a fixed look of worry, Roman gives him a tight smile of reassurance with neither of them wanting to address the issue in front of the other man. So they just talk, and Janus moves his chair a little closer for his friend to rest his tired head to his shoulder. He barely looks conscious at some points. 

As dinner comes to a close, the blond expresses that Remus looks like he needs some rest, so he’ll head home. He hopes the other man doesn’t think that he made him uncomfortable by being sick. Again, he isn’t sure how to talk about these things, so he just presses a careful kiss to the back of his hands and his forehead, before telling him to go get some rest.

Remus manages some sort of grunt of agreement, barely awake or lucid as he heads up the stairs, his feet catching against them at intervals. His body looks heavy for someone who looks to weight nothing at all.

As the smaller man sets about doing the dishes as usual, Roman lingers, looking like he wants to say something. Janus waits patiently but nothing comes, so he just asks what is on his mind: “Is he ill?” he isn’t sure in what way he’s asking, but any illness would do as long as it has a name. “He looks ill, should you take him to a doctor?” Not that he thinks it’s Roman’s job to run around after his brother, but he figures if anyone can get past that man’s stubbornness it’s Roman.

“I’d love to do that, but I can’t force a full-grown man to talk to a doctor, I haven’t been able to in our entire lives actually, says there’s nothing wrong with him.” Or not, Janus is not as surprised as he’d like to be. 

“This is a recurring problem?” Janus asks, his worried expression deepening. “Isn’t there medication or something he can take? All he ate today was a slice of toast! It’s not as though he’s got anything to burn in the first place.” Roman offers another one of his tight smiles, looking down at the floor for a moment, before sighing. 

“It’s a problem he’s had most of his life, yes, but I don’t think I’m really qualified to talk about it.” Janus’ shoulders sag a little, nodding. 

“Right, yes, of course.” He stands up a little straighter and returns his attention back to the soapy water; cleaning the dishes and stacking them on the rack with only the sound of water swishing and the clang of ceramic against metal to keep his mind occupied. 

“It’s okay to be worried, you’re not...you’re not wrong for doing so, even if he ever tries to make you feel like you are.” The words take him by surprise a little, placing the last of forks and knives on the drying rack. He turns with the towel in his hand and a plate in the other, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s just...well I said it was a lot of this, him getting into trouble and you having to pull him out, sometimes he doesn’t mean too...it’s not his fault, but I don’t think either of us can help him if he doesn’t want to be helped.”

Janus nods a little. “That’s okay, if he’s not ready he’s not ready, let’s just make sure he doesn’t starve to death for now.” He places the dried plate down. “And you, you need to sleep properly tonight, can’t have both of you keeling over on me.” 

Roman laughs softly, reaching to put away the plates. The two finish the chore in silence before Janus takes a deep breath in. He wants to say goodbye to Remus again, he misses him already and he’s just up the stairs. But he knows his friend needs to rest and doesn’t want to disturb him, so he just collects his shoes from the bottom of the stairs with his coat. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Roman.”

“Tomorrow? Two days in a row, now you’re just eager,” Janus’ lips press into a thin smile, his eyes avoiding Roman’s for a moment before he sighs. 

“I’m worried, I’ll be here tomorrow.” He opens the door slowly. “Besides, I don’t think it’s fair that you have to help him alone, so I’ll come and check on him, and you too.” He steps through it, his eyes finally dragging up from the floor to see Roman’s slightly raised eyebrows, his eyes a little wide as though he’d never been extended kindness before. Janus feels shattered with this misfit family, but not in a way that hurts, he just hates to think about what they must have gone through together. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Jan.” Janus smiles and turns to walk away, somehow grateful that the other man had not thanked him, that would have somehow felt more uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to be thanked, he just wants to help. 

He walks home in the dark, the cool air rustling under his jacket. He really should buy Remus another blanket, he sleeps with the window open and with that little amount of fat and muscle he must be cold at night. Well, when Janus isn’t there to keep him warm anyway. 

He looks up at the stars as he walks for a moment, wonders if any of them can look back, wonders if Remus looks at them too, wonders when everything in his life seemed to lead back to that man. Then he just decides he doesn’t mind, he’s worried about his friend, and he also just...it’s been so long since he’s had anyone to worry about. 

Not since his mother anyway. 

Janus hopes that’s not why he’s staying, because of that. 

He shakes that thought and continues home, no, he doesn’t need those sort of thoughts lingering. He doesn’t need to be comparing Remus to her, it’s not the same he’s sure. He hopes. 


	6. Can You Feel My Heart // Can you fix my bastard soul, will you wait for me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus might as well be made of anxiety, if he worries any harder. But sooner or later he’s going to have to stop dragging his past into his future.

Janus hasn’t been on a run in a while, he’s been too busy and most of the time far too tired. Not that Remus is an exhausting person to be around if you don’t consider their extracurricular activities, but he hadn’t quite accounted for the emotional exhaustion that would accompany having anyone else in his life. For the most part, he hadn’t even considered that he could feel emotionally exhausted, he thought he’d gotten the worst of that over with in high school. 

Still, he cannot sleep. He’s worried about Remus and it’s that awkward hour where if he goes back to sleep he could risk missing the train to work. So he decides to go on a run. He pulls on his slightly battered trainers with his grey (and in desperate need of a wash) joggers, and a vest, and just heads out of the door with his headphones on. 

The blond doesn’t think too much about it, he just jogs the route that was once usual to him, through the village, his footsteps echoing in the early morning silence. Some houses have their lights on, others probably won’t for a fair few hours, some have noise coming from inside too, children up too early. The noise is not an annoyance, it just makes him feel a little less lonely. He didn’t know that being alone felt bad until lately, alone is just how he was, and the little breach of quiet in an early-morning or late-night jog was the nearest thing to not-lonely he had. 

He doesn’t think, in any regard, about what will happen as his feet start up the small incline of the bridge that he hasn’t seen in six weeks. 

His jog slows as he catches the horizon, the first bleed of light into the world. The shimmering water glares in its stillness, undisturbed and like marble as the hint of a sunrise glows on its surface. Janus stills at its precipice and leans over the edge to look down at its inky depths. For a moment, he sees it as it is, and then his heart stammers in his chest and he has to close his eyes because the current world is not what he sees at all. 

Janus feels like a lump crawls into his throat and lodges itself where he was meant to breathe, it holds onto his oesophagus and clenches in an iron grip. For a moment that feels like forever, he can see Remus in the water. 

As a stranger, he’d looked different to how Janus sees him now. He’d looked like a face he’d never known and never seen, he looked like the first mirage of someone that one would meet at the corner shop and then never know again. He recalls dragging him out of the water and feels his heart hammer in his own chest as though he were reliving it. When his hands shake a little, he pulls his headphones back over his ears and closes his eyes again. He recalls how pale Remus’ skin was and the panic crawls through him as if he was still holding his body in his arms. 

Remus is fine, he’s at home in bed, asleep. It’s far too early for him to be anything but asleep. 

But imagining Remus, the Remus he knows now and not the image of him he’d met on that day, pale and choking, somehow hurts infinitely more. Though they’re the same man and same person, a stranger is not someone you hold in your arms and question what feelings you hold for them. A stranger is not someone whose body you hover over, or whose lips you touch with your own, whose thighs you grip in your hands. That stranger was so cold, Remus’ body is always warm underneath his own, his skin heated to a touch of reverence. 

Imagining that person who is not a stranger is like he’s imagining his best and only friend dying. Then it’s not a memory anymore, but a dark fantasy that he doesn’t want to have. To imagine pulling that man from the river is just a fear he doesn’t know what to do with. So he doesn’t do anything but tear his eyes away from the surface of the water, that is still except in Janus’ thoughts. 

He runs back to his home, much faster than usual, he’s actively panting for air when he gets through the door. His thoughts make too much noise and he dislikes that, so he just shuts his door and wanders upstairs to shower and get ready for work. He scrubs his skin a little harder than he had intended too, in a way he hasn’t in many years. Janus knows by now that a person can’t cleanse themself of a compulsive need to worry, at least not with soap and water. 

The blond wonders if Remus is okay. It’s such a simple worry to have but that image of lethargy he’d witnessed the previous day had scared him in ways he hadn’t even thought to register. He tells himself that the other man is okay, that he has to be okay because he’s going to be there tonight and he has to be okay. 

The last time he’d walked away from someone looking so tired they hadn’t been there when he’d gotten home. 

‘Stop that,’ he tells himself, drying off his hair and shoving his work shirt over his head. ‘There’s no need for the melodrama, he’s fine, he’s not her.’ 

He’s getting very good at throwing away his thoughts and feelings, that much he is distinctly aware of. There’s no real way to admit when a man is good at running away from his problems. For a moment he considers calling the house, but he sets it aside. If something was wrong, one of them would call him. Roman would, but Roman has work. Would Remus call him if something was wrong? If he was sick? If he needed help? 

Probably not. 

He finishes getting changed, pulls his boots onto his feet, slings his bag on his back and locks the front door behind him. He has to get to work, Remus would be fine. He’s just...tired, or has a cold or something like that. 

He’ll be there when he gets home.

The day drags by so slowly that Janus is entirely certain that he feels every second in its eternal agony, inescapable from the progressively slowing clock hands. He thinks for a moment he might just walk out, say he’s sick, because there’s no way one hour should feel like three, so maybe he is sick.

He tries to just do his work instead, fixing other people’s problems in hopes he won’t have to think about his own. He drinks far too much coffee in the process, of this much he knows. His colleagues try to talk to him as offhandedly as usual but he barely gets out more than a few sentences and they leave him alone, probably thinking he looks far too tired for anything of substance. He is far too tired for conversation, he knows that. Janus considers that his body feels like it’s dragging through the floor slowly. 

He misses Remus, but it’s not that this time, it’s that he’s scared. He should’ve stayed there last night, or he shouldn’t have because Remus needs to be alone too. not just him; he can’t be overbearing so soon in their...friendship. He doesn’t want to scare him off. 

As soon as he can leave, he does, his bag already packed to go, he grabs it and heads out of work. He jumps on the train with two minutes to spare this time, and fidgets the entire ride home, pacing through the carriage enough for an old man in a black dress coat to say “sit down, for christ’s sake.” He apologises and does as he’s told.

When he gets off the train he’s practically running to the corner shop to get an assortment of things he knows Remus likes; overly sugary sweets, ginger beer, crisps. Then he races to Remus’ house to knock frantically on the door. Roman opens the door with a quirked eyebrow, like he’d been waiting for him on the other side as Janus has usually just walks in. He registers the panic on Janus’ face. “Is he okay?” the blonde blurts out, visibly caught up in his own thoughts. 

“A little better than yesterday, he’s eaten twice already today.” Roman holds open the door for him as relief relaxes Janus’ shoulders. “Go on up, I think he’s napping right now.” The elder of the twins gives Janus a fond sort of smile, before heading into the kitchen. 

Janus walks upstairs as quietly as he can. Remus is asleep, so he sets the plastic bag down and pulls off his shoes and shirt, sliding into the bed. He stares for a moment, watching the rise and fall of the other’s chest, watching him breathe. He’s never thought that a single motion; in and out and in and out could mean just this much to him. 

He’s not cared about something like that in a while. 

He’s not had too. 

Maybe it’s the circumstances of how they met, maybe it’s because he’s seen Remus half not-alive before and then it was jarring, but it didn’t mean so much to him. Maybe it’s a lot of things, maybe Janus has seen one too many people dead, but he could sit and listen to just the air coming in and out of Remus’ lungs over and over for the rest of his life. If it meant he gets to know he’s alive, that he’s okay. 

The anxiety of the day seeps out of him and with it so does his energy, his smaller body wrapping protectively around his best friend’s, his hand resting palm-first against the other man’s spine. He can feel the inhale and exhale through his fingertips right around to his chest. Janus’ eyes flicker shut and he just...relaxes, finally. 

Again, he fades in and out of slumber until a knock at the door disturbs them both, Remus’ eyes peeling open as Roman lets them both know that dinner is ready. The tiredness is still on Remus’ face as he looks up at Janus, wondering when he’d gotten here and why he hadn’t woken him up. Instead of voicing any of those questions though, he just smiles and hugs him with more force than intended. Janus collapses back against the mattress with a slight ‘oof’ of a complaint, but he’s smiling. 

“We’ll be down in a moment,” the younger twin informs his brother, who rolls his eyes and mutters something along the lines of ‘insatiable.’ But Remus isn’t looking for sex right now, there’s nothing in his touch that is too hot or too heavy, his head rests on Janus’ chest and he listens to his heartbeat. The breath that the blond had been so eagerly studying fans out against his neck, he squeezes Remus’ body against his own gently. 

“Evening,” Janus finally utters. “How are you feeling?” 

“A little better,” Remus hums. “All the better for seeing your handsome face.”

“Flirt.”

“Don’t you know it?” the taller man leans up with a grin and stretches his arms out above his head. “I need a shower.” 

“Dinner’s ready.” 

“I can put it in the microwave,” Remus clambers over the other man’s body, his long legs reaching to the floor with some impressive grace for someone usually so very clumsy. “There’s enough room for two?” He turns around and grins at Janus, who rolls his eyes a little. 

“A quick shower.” He mutters “...and I’m only joining to make sure you don’t pass out or something.” 

“Sure, whatever you say Jan.” The smaller man takes the offered hand with a little sigh ghosting his lips, staring up at his friend with a contentedness that is awfully domestic for the situation that they’re in. He slips into the small bathroom with Remus, locking the door behind him. He goes to pull his shirt off but Remus’ hands catch his own. 

“Re, I’m serious, just a q-” He’s cut off by a kiss, as usual. But it’s not the kiss he’s expecting, it’s soft and dry and slow, his body trapped between the taller man’s and the bathroom wall. He leans against the wall, his eyes fluttering closed. Remus’ hands catch the bottom of his shirt and pulls away to pull it off. The cold bathroom tile presses to his bare back when the item of clothing is left to the floor. “Just a quick shower,” he whispers, half dazed. 

Remus snorts, his grin fond as he shakes his head. Janus’ hands rest against his hips and then he slides them up his body, taking the thin fabric of his shirt with the route of his touch. The gaze on the other’s face changes to desire, his eyelids half closing and a flush running to his cheeks. Despite that, it strangely doesn’t feel sexual. The shirt falls to the ground far too daintily, and Remus swallows a little as Janus’ hands pull him closer, he shakes under the gentle touch and inhales sharply into their kiss as it comes. 

The taller man manages to gather some sense of composure before they part again, his eyes blinking down at his friend. “Just a quick shower you were saying?” He grins, but his words sound a little weak as though any bite and teasing had drained out of him to make room for something a whole lot softer. Janus smiles back warmly, a little lost on words, he feels like he just had some sort of religious experience, his heart is skipping so many beats in his chest but he’s neither anxious or aroused. 

It’s too soon. It’s too soon. You can’t love someone that fast. 

His hand rests at the back of Remus’ neck, guiding him back down into the kiss, his fingers play lightly with the hair there for a moment, before sliding down the other man’s bare chest. He can feel his ribs, and when Remus sucks the air in from the touch, he swears he feels each bone. The other man undoes his trousers a little clumsily (he’s shaking, he’s trembling like a frightened little mouse and neither of them really know why). 

They pull away again, and Remus looks flustered but in a way Janus has not seen him before. He steps back, taking a deep breath in as he switches on the shower and sets the temperature. Janus doesn’t want to stop kissing him, or touching him, but the other man still looks so tired. They should have a quick shower, they should go eat dinner, dig into some of those snacks and go to sleep. He can see that flow of scenes play in his mind’s eye. He wants that too. 

He doesn’t want to stop touching Remus to do it though. 

Remus hands slide against his waistband, his fingertips pressing to the skin like he’s documenting the feel. His hands are still shaking. Janus pulls away this time, his hands catching both of Remus’ and holding them. “Are you okay? Do you need something to eat?” He frets like a worried hen and he knows it, but he has spent all day twisted up inside with this...terror that he’d managed to drag with him from a past he’s barely made peace with. 

“I’m okay,” Remus replies, looking simultaneously confused and shocked. Janus doesn’t really know what to make of the expression and his eyebrows furrow before he can control the reflex. “Really, I’m fine,” he pulls a smile on his face, and Janus can only manage to squeeze his still shaking hands in his own. “Shall we...shower?” 

“Yeah,” the blond clears his throat and tugs his trousers and underwear and socks off, leaving them on the floor. Remus’ pants and underwear join the pile, and he steps in the shower, head leaning back against the wall as the water runs over his chest. Janus just slides in and stands in front of him, hoping he’s not blocking too much of the water.

The worry is short-lived however Remus leans forward and wraps his arms around him, the water carding over both of their bodies. Janus leans back against the taller man, lifting his head back to rest on Remus’ collarbone with a gentle sigh of relief. He can feel his heartbeat through his chest. The dark-haired man nuzzles his cheek with a little hum; the smile that crosses his partner’s lips in response, as he tilts his head to capture him in a kiss, is gentle.

His hand comes up to run lightly through Remus’ damp hair, his lips parting and a quiet gasp escaping as he’s pulled closer, their bodies flush together. The room is warm, Remus’ body is warmer than it’s ever been. The hands on his hips squeeze just enough for a very quiet noise to escape him, lost in the sound of the water stream. The brunet’s fingertips drift further in, the long and nimble fingers pressing to Janus’ inner hip, drifting a little further to his abdomen, where they draw content circles against his heated flesh. 

The sensation burns in a pleasant way, it lulls the sort of heat a hand warmer might have to the surface of his skin, and deep beneath it to his nerves. The kiss breaks, and he doesn’t really know why he’s panting like he’d ran a marathon but he is. “I was worried about you,” he finally says, after a moment of silence and just staring at the other man. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day, more so than usual,” his own cheeks heat, unsure why he’d felt the need to blurt that out. Remus just laughs softly, but there’s some surprise flickering across his expression. 

“I’m always okay,” no-one is always okay. “Promise, I’m just a little tired.” 

Janus nods, biting his lip. He should not say anymore, he cannot say anymore than that. That was already enough. Remus notes the conflict in his expression and leans down to kiss his shoulder, open-mouthed (he can feel his breath, he can feel him breathing, hot against his skin under the water), water runs down his hair and drips onto Janus’ body. The sensation is oddly warmth-inducing. In multiple ways. 

“You’re so tense,” Remus mutters against his skin, his teeth grazing his shoulder in a playful nip. “See, the shower is already waking me up,” he can feel the smirk. Remus is so very tall, but he’s never felt imposing to Janus. 

Right up until his arm wraps right around Janus’ chest and he presses a kiss that is mostly teeth and tongue to his neck, his other hand pressed flat to his lower abdomen. Janus makes a noise that not even the water can hide, his eyelids flying wide open as his friend sucks at his neck. “I think you need to relax, Jan.” 

The smaller man inhales sharply, before he pulls away a little, shaking his head. Remus sighs, rolling his eyes, thinking he’s not getting his own way and not wanting to show any rejection. Janus turns around, leans up onto his tiptoes and pulls him into a kiss. Their dinner is definitely cold by now and he feels just a little bad about that, but the surprised moan that comes out of Remus’ mouth as his partner presses against him makes it just a little bit worth it. But no, Remus is the one who has been tired and ill, Remus is the one that deserves to relax. 

So he grips the base of the taller man’s half-hard cock and tugs just a little, stroking him quickly but not too firmly, or too fast, or with any measure that would make the other uncomfortable. “What about…?” Remus doesn’t finish the sentence because he’s stunned to silence as the other man drops to his knees. “...a condom?” that wasn’t the question he’d been trying to ask. But it’s the question he does ask. 

Janus looks up at him and the taller man looks like he’s about to pass out from the look he’s given. His hands are shaking again as the blond’s hand slides against his thigh, the other holding the base of his cock and guiding it to his mouth. “Fuck,” Remus manages out. “I s-swear you’re trying to kill me.” Janus doesn’t really know how he’d manage that, or even why something as simple as a blowjob would have that effect a man who generally considers himself in and out of people’s beds. 

His hand moves with his mouth, trying not to wince at the taste of precum on his tongue. He’s never done this without a condom before and it does no pleasure for his anxiety, that much is for sure. But he tries to relax, move to a rhythm that makes sense. Remus’ hips thrust shallowly, barely, into his mouth, almost like he’s not realising he’s doing it. The blond looks up at the other man, whose head is resting back against the glass, his teeth imprisoning his bottom lip in a very tight bite, his eyes now screwed shut. 

The expression only fuels Janus more, taking him better, trying to stay relaxed, trying to push himself. He gags a little, his throat closing around the intrusion, and he jerks back, but doesn’t still, ignoring the knots his stomach is all tied up in. 

“Jan…” Remus finally releases himself from his silence. He isn’t sure if it’s praise or a warning, but either way the outcome is the same, his hand jerking the other’s cock as his mouth and tongue work the head. “Fuck...Jan...you need ta…” Remus’ hips jerk, his thighs shaking as his hands come out to scratch fruitlessly at the slippery surface of the shower. The noise that comes out of his mouth was supposed to be words, but is just a loud moan of euphoria. 

Janus winces at the taste of cum, but doesn’t still until the job is done, before spitting the fluid down the drain with his nose scrunched up in distaste. Remus slides down the wall to sit on the ground, his eyes delicately closed as his shoulders heave with his breathing. “Sly little cunt,” he mutters. Janus grins, leaning forward to peck his lips. “What about you?” 

“I’m fine.” He is. “I don’t really feel like it,” he doesn’t. He isn’t really comfortable with the idea of Remus using any more energy that doesn’t immediately benefit him, not right now anyway. “Come on, let’s actually have a wash and go have our dinner before Roman starts wondering if we’ve managed to actually die.” 

“A little death at least,” Remus snorts, unsure if his shaking legs can support his weight. 

“Hilarious,” Janus deadpans, his hands helping the other man to his feet. He figures, as much as he’d love to wash Remus’ body and hair, that maybe that’s a level of intimacy neither of them are ready for. Also, if he starts touching Remus again neither of them are getting out of this shower until their skin is shrivelled and drained of any natural oils. 

He thinks, a little, that Remus is almost disappointed he didn’t let him return the favour. 

It’s just in his expression. The way his gaze lingers on Janus’ body. But now he looks even more tired than when he’d gotten in, using energy he didn’t really have in the first place. Still, he’d initiated it, so he must have wanted something right? Janus isn’t sure why he’d want his partner’s pleasure more than his own when said partner isn’t really in the sort of mood in the first place. So getting a blowjob should, surely, be better than giving one?

He knows that he at least does not exactly lose sleep over sucking a cock. It’s even worse without a condom to mask the salty, sticky and far too dense for a liquid, substance. 

Yet, having an oral fixation would be the least weird thing about this man, so who knows? 

When they finally get out the shower, dry off, and back into their clothes, they at least have the decency to look a little sheepish when they get back down stairs. Roman just rolls his eyes at them, shoving Remus’ plate into the microwave first with a little smirk that would’ve made Janus uncomfortable if it had been anyone else. “It’s fine, seriously, no need to be so tense blonde and broody,” he ruffles Janus’ hair the way he does with Remus and brushes past him. “I, however, now have places to be.”

“With your right hand?” Remus comments drily, a slight smirk on his lips. 

“Nope! With an extra pair!”

“Say hi to Patton for me,” Janus comments before he has to hear absolutely any more. 

“Will do!” The sound of keys jangling and then the door shutting leaves just the sound of the microwave and the two of them. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Still tired.” Remus looks down at his hands. “Now with additional post-orgasmic shakes.” 

“Sorry,” Janus grimaces a little, wondering if he should have taken that into consideration. 

“You must be the only man I know who apologises for giving a blow job.” The microwave dings, Janus stands up to take the food out, placing it down in front of Remus with a knife and fork. He seems to be making it clearer than usual that he fully intends to be this man’s maid. Then, he wouldn’t want to give Remus any more ideas than that deviant mind needs so he keeps his mouth shut and refrains from a joke. He puts his own food in the microwave and leans against the counter, listening to the sound it makes in the quiet. 

“Yeah well...I figured it would cheer you up.” He looks down at his feet. Remus doesn’t respond for a moment, ducking behind his fringe as he pushes food around his plate. 

“You said you were worried about me?” He asks, finally, into the too tight almost-silence. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

Janus’ jaw tightens and he stares with purpose at the microwave, wondering if it will give him the answer. He already has the answer, probably. He doesn’t want it too badly though. Not right now, he can’t...he can’t do that to either of them. Not until he knows what Remus is keeping from him, and not until that word stops making him feel so sick. “It’s what friends do, isn’t it? Care about each other?” 

“Wouldn’t know,” the sound of metal on ceramic makes the blond wince, the action just an inch too forceful. “I suppose though.” 

“Yeah.” Silence except for the microwave. Then it dings. Janus takes out his food and picks up his knife and fork, sitting down next to Remus. The silence is just as loud. 

Remus doesn’t eat more than a quarter of his dinner before he looks incredibly sick, instead residing himself to the glass of water on the table, he drinks it slowly, his eyes unfocused and staring...not staring, but looking at something that isn’t there. The worry comes back again for Janus, gnawing at his chest, but he knows if he asks he won’t get the truth so what exactly is the point in asking, really? 

He’s never really wished to be clairvoyant before. Always thought that was the one superpower he really didn’t want. Now he could never want for more than to just know what his friend is thinking, what he’s seeing right now that Janus just can’t know or see or think. He wishes that if he’d asked he’d get the truth. “Are you okay?” He asks, because the hand holding the glass is hovering over the table but it’s shaking with tremors. Remus startles and water splashes out onto the table. For a moment, there is a look of sheer horror on his face, and he flinches away from Janus as though expecting a repercussion. Janus does not touch him, he just asks again, softer: “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” the glass lands back on the table and Remus stands to get a cloth to wipe up the mess. 

Janus can’t really unsee the look on the other man’s face when the water had spilt. Those dark eyes were so wide with terror, his lips pulled into a sharp gasp but more than that...he’d looked straight at Janus as he’d done it. 

And not for the first time, Janus really does wonder how big of a secret his friend is keeping. 

He doesn’t push it. He just finishes his food, and wraps Remus’ up, putting it in the fridge in case he gets hungry later. Then he just stands next to the other man and holds out his hand, Remus takes it, looking as tired as he did the previous day. Janus wraps his arms around him, resting his head against his chest. 

He can hear his heartbeat.


	7. death bed // don’t stay awake for too long, don’t go to bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past few days have been like this, all Remus does is sleep and stare at nothingness.

Janus wakes up with a warm body half on top of his own. He peels his eyes open slowly and looks down at the mess of dark hair brushing against his chest. He brings a tired hand up to brush through the hair gently, playing with the strands in a featherlight fashion and noting silently that his friend could do with a haircut. He smiles warmly as the other man nuzzles against his bare chest, his beard scratching against his chest, but not unpleasantly. 

The other man peels open his eyes slowly at the playing with his hair, his body jolting out of his slumber as he stretches out his back. He lifts his head just a little, resting his chin against the blond’s chest, his heavy eyes peering through his mussed hair. “When did you get here?” He mutters. It’s been like that a lot lately, Remus sleeping most of the day, waking up to Janus in his bed. That’s okay, he needs his rest. He works mornings most of the time, so he just comes home and sleeps, maybe it’s hard working in a shop, Janus doesn’t know. It _looks_ exhausting regardless.

“About uh...four hours ago I think? I fell asleep at some point,” he chuckles softly. “I brought snacks though.” He smiles gently down at the other man, who smiles back, leaning up a little to press their lips together gently. Then Remus’s stomach rumbles and he laughs into the kiss, pulling away and shaking his head at his own body. “Do you want something to eat that isn’t snacks first?”

“I’m not hungry enough,” he hums, leaning over the bed to rummage through the bag. He hums in approval, tugging open a bag of pick and mix and throwing some of the sugary treats into his mouth without much thought, he chews and swallows, before dropping the bag back down. “Do you want repayment for these?” Janus laughs softly in response, thinking he’s joking.

“Maybe when you can hold yourself up properly, and I’m not half-asleep.” He holds out his arm and Remus finds it endearing, snuggle up beside his friend comfortably. He rests his head back on Janus’ chest and closes his heavy eyelids, and lets his heavier body rest. “We could have pancakes if you’d like, if you don’t go back to sleep that is, if not I have the day off tomorrow, we could have them for breakfast.” Remus makes a noncommittal humming noise, closing his eyes again. “You’ve slept most of the day and evening.” 

“Evening is when you’re supposed to sleep.” 

“Sleep is best not had at fourteen hour intervals.” 

Remus snorts gently in response, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Yeah well…” he mutters “...it’s a good job I’m aiming for at least eighteen.” He recognises the slight worry in the blond’s two-toned eyes, but shifts away from it like he’s scared of what that look could mean. Janus resigns to not argue, because he doesn’t want to push Remus when he barely has a grasp of what’s wrong. 

Although he doubts someone who barely eats anything of substance could have the energy they need, the lethargy Remus displays is familiar and disconcerting. It makes him think about things and people he doesn’t want to think about any second of any day. 

“I don’t want to get out bed.” Remus finally mutters. “I know I should, I know you _want_ me too, but...I can’t, I’m too tired.” The smaller man does not want his companion to feel guilty so he leans down to press a kiss to the side of his head gently. 

“It’s not about what _I_ want, or what you _should_ do, it’s about what’s good for your body.” He manages to reply, unsure how to phrase what he wants to stay. “If you keep sleeping all day you’ll just always be tired, because your body isn’t getting what it needs to fully restore.” He’s sure Remus probably knows that, they all sat through those classes in school where they tell you what your body needs and how to get it. Just in case though. “Do _you_ want to get out of bed?” 

“A little.” Janus nods and untangles their bodies. Remus does nothing short of pout at the movement, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip jutting out as he stares up at the partner that had, as far as he’s currently concerned, abandoned him. “Where are you... _Jan!”_ His voices raises four octaves higher as the other man lifts him up bridal style, as though he weighs nothing at all to the blond. He barely weighs anything at all, he’s mostly just...tall. 

Janus carries his friend to the bathroom and sits him down on the closed toilet lid. “Better?” 

“It’s cold.” Remus grumbles. 

“A shower will help.” 

He switches on the shower, holding his hand under the warm water as it heats up. Remus stretches out his arms and legs, nose wrinkled in distaste. The taller man pulls his sleep shirt over his head and drops it to the floor without ceremony. He really does look exhausted, he has bags under his eyes and that coupled with the high cheekbones and sharp jawline makes him almost look like a skeleton. He stands and sways a little but manages out of his clothes. He’s getting skinnier, if that’s possible, his stomach is starting to dip into itself, it’s neither beautiful nor disgusting, but it is fear-inducing for Janus. “Will you be okay?” He doesn’t know if he’s talking about the shower, or in general, but Remus just gives him a tired smile. 

“I’m fine.” _Stop **saying** that. _

“I’ll go make some pancakes,” Janus presses a featherlight kiss to Remus’ shoulder and heads down the stairs, closing the bathroom door on his exit. When he gets to the bottom he can hear the TV playing from the living room, and Roman and Patton talking. The door is shut though, so he knocks and waits to be told he can come in. “I’m making pancakes, for Remus,” he explains after he’s entered the room, feeling somehow like a small child walking in when he’s not supposed to despite the fact neither Roman nor Patton look upset in any regard by his presence. “Would you like some?” 

“Just a couple,” Patton smiles warmly. He has the face for a nurse, Janus thinks, kind and caring, patient. He’s probably seen a lot of horrible things in a hospital, but he smiles like he’s never known horrid things at all. That might be his own resilience, or maybe it’s the way Roman’s hand plays gently with his hair; Janus has been told love cures all ails, but surely it cannot cure _sadness?_

“I’ll uh...how many am I allowed?” Roman grins. Patton snorts lightly, shaking his head in an endeared fashion. “I’ll take just a couple too,” he finally settles on, smiling down at Patton, who still has the small grin on his face, but his gaze has gone back to the TV. Janus nods, and closes the door behind him. They seem happy, that’s nice, he’s happy for them too. It’s just not what he’s used to. He couldn’t imagine either Roman or Patton raising their voices at each other, or arguing at all beyond the general lover’s tiff. But that’s where it always ends up.

Janus makes the pancakes with some pancake mix that he’d known already was in the cupboards because he’d bought it. He stares at the pan as the pancakes form, flipping them, and sliding them onto a plate. He takes the four pancakes into Roman and Patton and vows he’ll leave them in peace for the rest of the night, half apologetic and the other half under the realisation that love _is_ suffocating. Just not in the way he’d thought. 

He makes five for both him and Remus to share, grabbing some chocolate spread and honey to take upstairs with him. The frying pan sits in the sink full of water, and the hob is turned off before he balances the plate, toppings and knives and forks up the stairs. He sets them down on the bed before knocking on the bathroom door. Janus can still hear the water running, but otherwise it’s completely silent. 

The blond’s lips pull into a frown as he pushes open the bathroom door but just finds himself swallowing dryly as he takes in the scene in front of him. Remus is sat at the bottom of the shower, his knees pulled up to his chest. The water hits against his chest, and there are tears leaking out of his eyes, unblinking eyes that stare straight forward. Gently, Janus declares his presence and steps further into the room, reaching up to turn off the water. 

The taller man looks up at him, or rather right _through_ him, his eyes staring but not meeting his own. As the water drains off, however, his eyes start to blink and he shifts on the spot. Janus doesn’t know what to say or do, so he just kneels down next to the shower and holds out a hand. Remus startles just a little, his blinking becoming rapid until he reaches out to take the other man’s hand in his own, shivering a little as the cold sinks in. 

Once he’s stood, he seems far more in the moment, but he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t know what to say just as much as Janus does. Remus reaches for the towel to dry off his body and hair, before placing it on the rack and reaching for his clothes. Janus doesn’t watch him do this, he just leans against the bathroom wall and stares at the floor, if his friend needs him he’ll help, but he doesn’t want to assume he can’t do it himself. 

Once Remus is dressed again, they both go to his bedroom and sit down on the bed. He lets Remus eat first, he eats slowly and Janus _cannot_ stand the silence so he speaks. “Patton’s here,” he manages out, his throat suddenly much more eager to prevent him to speak than usual. “If you wanted to see him that is, but also he’s here...” He pauses a moment. “You know it’s funny but Patton’s like half of Roman’s size in every which way but he always manages to make him look smaller.” 

Remus smiles a little. “He... _Roman_ follows him around like a puppy, that’s why,” he chews the small bite of pancake in his mouth and then swallows. “Roman acts like a damn chihuahua around him, and Patton doesn’t half make him break a sweat for his own amusement.” He looks down at his plate with the same little smile, nodding his head. “He could ask Roman for the moon and he’d die trying...it’s exhausting to watch.” 

“Because love is suffocating?” 

“And dumb,” Remus nods. “I’m happy for them,” he sighs, the smile slipping which is strange because that might be the most positive thing he’s said or thought today. But the admittance that they are happy and that they are happier together is also admitting he wishes he could have that sort of happiness. “Patton is good for him I think, it makes it easier to look after me if he has someone there, but I think I must drive Patton up the wall.”

“Why?” Janus asks, confused, the two seem to get along very well, and if nothing else then perfectly fine for practical brothers-in-law. By everything _but_ law ironically enough. 

“He’s always been like that, always wanting to help people, it’s why he became a nurse and it’s why he tries so hard; but that’s because he couldn’t help me, really, and I think that upsets him because we’re the people that mean the most to him, except his parents and other family that is.” His jaw clenches just a little, the word is almost spat out _‘family,’_ like it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to even say the word. “He wants to fix people and I can’t be fixed, that’s the irony.” 

“He trained to become a nurse because he wanted to help you?” Remus nods. “That’s sweet, but at the same time you can’t be held accountable that you don’t have a cure.” 

“He does, he said I need to see a shrink basically, but I said no.” So Remus _does_ know what’s wrong? Is his sickness in his mind _too?_

Janus doesn’t like how his stomach churns over itself at the thought, once again trying to squash a thought he can’t fathom handling. The surface of that water is disturbed but it’s not a river, not this time, Remus is sinking under something a lot less physical, drowning in the waves of his own... _depression._ Janus’ eyes close for a moment and his breath comes out something short. That damn word haunts him like a ghost and he can’t just be throwing it on Remus. 

“How come?” He finally says, reaching for a pancake to do absolutely anything but sink into his own thoughts. 

“I don’t think talking about it it’s going to help and also I’m _not_ fucking crazy.” 

“I don’t think anyone is crazy,” Janus mutters. “I think people just get help for an illness when they need it, just like you take cold meds for a cold.” Remus shrugs, clearly not willing to even entertain the thought for a second longer than he feasibly has too. “And I don’t think you drive him up the wall, he’s probably just scared of losing you, so is Roman.” _‘So am I, **terrified** in fact, lately I’ve been thinking about it so much I’m scared you’ll lose me first.’_

“All it does is make me feel guilty, I don’t want to talk about it and I _can’t_ talk about it, and if I wanted a fucking psychiatrist to tell me all of that I’d go to one, but I don’t.” His tone is snappy, so Janus shuts his mouth and doesn’t say any more on the matter. He wants to say that Remus doesn’t have to feel guilty, or ashamed, that it’s not his fault and he’s not responsible for their worries. He also wants to say he hates seeing his friend suffer, that he’d do anything just to make him smile and laugh. Anything but this. 

Something is wrong and neither of them can fix it. Janus _can’t_ fix Remus, he’s not a faulty computer, there’s no right wires or turning it off-and-on-again that will click this situation into the right place. And Remus doesn’t have the right tools nor does he want them, to even begin to think about changing this. _Fix_ still doesn’t seem like the right word, Remus isn’t a toy, he’s a person...people aren’t broken they’re just victims of happenstance or genetics or wherever else this damn illness comes from. 

“Okay.” It’s all he actually says in return. “Are you done with those?”

“Yeah , help yourself.” Remus dumps the plate down on Janus’ legs, making the other man wince a little. “Good night,” he slides into the covers and closes his eyes, Janus can’t tell if he’s actually asleep or not. He thinks maybe it’s best not to ask, whatever the answer may be, as he sits in silence and eats his pancakes. 


	8. Swing Life Away // Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Janus can squeeze the truth past his own lips, maybe Remus can have a little bit of honesty too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Janus recalls his memory of his mother's death, it's fairly graphic, so warning for detailed descriptions of finding a person who has died by suicide.

The sun is starting to set by the time Janus gets off the train; the dark evenings are starting to draw in now, and the wind bites underneath his jacket as he steps out onto the platform. He’d barely noticed the time was passing if he’d been honest. One moment they were in summer, then autumn, now they’re walking the fine line between orange leaves and frosty winters. 

The night is settling in, the sunset bathing the skies in deep red, calm skies tomorrow probably, or so Janus hopes. The one thing he hates about winter is the rain or worse the _snow_. He burrows his hands into his jacket pocket, the reddened skin finding no comfort in the open air. 

Remus is working the afternoon to early evening shift today, so he heads straight to the shop to go pester him for a little while, and pick up things for dinner. He’d honestly practically moved in at this point, although he still goes home sometimes after they’ve had dinner. Just to feel like his house is still somewhat a home, but with all those ghosts living in that place...is there any point? Not that there are any fewer ghosts living in Janus himself, and the one thing a person cannot escape is their own history, but he feels more comfortable at Roman and Remus’ house. The sad memories he has there are balanced with the happy ones. 

He isn’t sure he really _had_ any happy memories before he met them. 

Janus tries to recall one, a dinner that wasn’t full of arguments, or one that isn’t his dad coming home too late to eat for a reason that had nothing to do with the work that he said he had. He tries to remember his mother smiling, she didn’t do it often but when she did it felt like a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day. Not hopeful, because the grey will always come back, but content for a moment that there is some light. He tries to remember his father as anything other than an escapist, but he can’t remember his childhood enough to find a memory like that. If he’d ever been a faithful, or calm man. 

The blond pushes open the shop door and loses his thoughts to Remus, who is leaning over the counter at the shop. Remus might be the first solid happy memory Janus has, he hopes that doesn’t stay a memory. Lately, that same feeling is there though, looking for sunlight on a grey day. 

But when Remus smiles it isn’t the same. When Remus smiles Janus forgets how to _breathe_. It’s less a ray of sunlight and more the power of a supernova burning out against his skin, as though it needs any more scars. As if _he_ needs any more scars. That’s less to do with hope though because Remus is a grey sky almost all of the time now. That’s just how Janus feels around him, like he’s the source of light in his life. 

If his life is the night sky, Remus is the stars sewn into it.

Janus can deal with the inky blackness if he gets to find that light every billion of miles or so.

“Evening,” the blond grins, like he has no idea who his friend is. 

“Why hello there handsome stranger,” Remus replies with a roll of his eyes. The grin on his lips is still tired, but he’s been in this one space for hours now and that’s not a surprise. Janus notices he always shifts a little to the side that Janus can see out of unconsciously. Being blind in one eye is not the end of the world, he thinks the way people treat it is infinitely worse than it is, although sometimes it is a little nerve-wracking to have a side he cannot see out of. Especially walking alone at night. But he’s a fast runner and he can handle himself in a fight most of the time. 

He’s met a lot of people who seem to take it far more personally than he himself does, that much is for sure. Still, it’s sweet that Remus always tries to make sure he’s in the right view. Especially when they’re lying in bed together, always the side Janus can see him from, he must know that he’s the only thing that the man wants in his sight.

“What are you wanting for dinner?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of cola off the shelf. Remus hums absently, giving a small shrug. “Vegetables? Pie? Chips?” 

“Vegetables,” the brunet manages back, squinting slightly at the floor for a moment as if trying to distinguish something from the grey linoleum. “I fancy a stew,” he leans up off the counter and turns his attention back to Janus, who shuffles over the freezer to grab a bag of frozen mixed vegetables. “It’s been forever since I had some veg, Roman’s an oven food sort of guy.” 

“I noticed,” Janus replies with a soft chuckle, he places down the contents of his order down on the counter before shuffling through his pockets to find a couple of notes. Remus shoves everything into plastic bags with an amused smile, taking Janus’ money and pushing it into the till. His movements are a little slow, but Janus isn’t sure if he’s supposed to say anything on the matter. He’s getting a little tired of asking if Remus is okay, he knows by now he’s not going to get the truth. 

But he stays around to chat for a little while, talking about his day, it was uneventful and it always is. No other people come into the shop, perks of living in a small town. He tries to ask Remus about his day but at some point, it’s very clear the other man isn’t really listening. His face is absent of expression and he’s staring down at the grey floor again. “Remus?” Janus asks. 

“What?” Remus snaps back, his face a hot mix of irritation and...fear. The smaller man recoils a little, his hands tensing. He doesn’t know how to respond for a moment, a strange feeling of sadness burning in his chest right down to the pits of his stomach, so he just swallows whatever breath it is that he had and looks down at his feet. “Sorry,” Remus mutters. 

“It’s fine,” Janus replies, he’s had a long day, of course, he just wants to be left alone. “I’ll see you at home.” He picks up his bags and trails out of the shop, his friend says nothing more but there’s a flash of upset on his expression, lips parted as though he wants to say something. He says nothing, and the closing of the shop door is all he gets in response to it. 

The walk back to their home is not a long one, but his arms strain against the cold, his hands cramping up as if there was a frost growing on his skin. He knocks on the front door and lets himself in as usual, kicking off his shoes and then wandering into the kitchen to rest the plastic bags on the table. Roman is frowning at a newspaper when he arrives, before closing it as Janus enters, smiling warmly up at the other man. “What’s for dinner tonight?” The taller man asks, standing up to open the bags.

“Remus wants stew,” Janus replies, leaning against the kitchen counter. There must have been a shake to his voice because the elder man’s neck practically snaps with how fast he looks up. 

Remus and Roman are twins, but they’re very different, same face and the same shape, same dark eyes and shaped lips. But Roman looks like he could pick a fight with a car, and he doesn’t hide his emotions or even attempt too. He looks worried and there’s no second-guessing that; Remus flicks through emotional facades so fast sometimes Janus can’t tell if he’s actually feeling any of the emotions or if he should be taking up a job as an actor. 

“What happened?” Roman finally asks. He’s really asking _‘what did Remus do?’_ but neither of them wants that question asking or answering. 

“He snapped at me,” Janus shrugs a little. “It’s not a big deal, I’ve been shouted at by scarier and bigger men, that’s not really the problem.” Roman stands up a little straighter, waiting expectantly for the elaboration. Janus practically squirms under his gaze, not for the first time feeling like a child under Roman’s eyes. Twins, sure, but Roman always looks like he’s been twenty-three _before_. “I just wish I knew what was wrong,” he finally mutters, shaking his head. “I don’t care if he’s shouting at me, I don’t care if he’s screaming at me, hell I don’t give a shit if he _decks_ me I just wish I knew why.” Roman nods in response, sighing a little. 

“I can’t…” he trails off. “I can’t tell you why, understand that I have to put Remus’ feelings first…” 

“Of course,” Janus replies, a little affronted the other man would imply he feels otherwise, but he swallows his pride because this is far more important. 

“...Just know it’s not for nothing, yeah? He shouldn’t shout at you, he shouldn’t snap at you and you don’t deserve that, but he’s not doing it out of the sake of being mean, his irritability is...it can be something you just deal with, eventually it stops having so much of a bite, after all, he’s not exactly threatening.” Janus exhales a soft laugh through his nose, nodding. Remus could be many things, scary in a way that Janus would feel he’s in danger is not one of them.

“I figured as much,” Janus sighs. He stares at the floor for a moment. “He’ll tell me eventually, probably,” he leans up off the counter. “I should get a start on dinner.” He just wants to be doing something, anything with his hands or body that isn’t standing still. He frowns at the collection of pots and pans cluttering up the sides. “Hey Roman?” 

“Mhm?” 

“I know you work a lot, so I apologise if I’m overstepping, but this place would have more room if it was better organised.” Roman laughed shortly in return, nodding. 

“I’m just too tired and pushing Remus to do housework is not a strain I want to put on him, Patton cleans up occasionally but he works long shifts and I don’t want to impose.” Janus hums in thought for a moment, before pointing at the bags.

“You start on dinner...” He thinks maybe they’d both feel a little better if the rooms were so cluttered and crowded. “...I’ll clean the kitchen up, maybe that will help.” He’s not sure if he’s talking about helping himself, Remus, Roman or all of the above, but he thinks it will help someone. Having all this clutter must feel claustrophobic to someone other than himself. 

And then he cleans. He starts with the cupboards, pulling everything out and throwing away moulding food with a scrunched up nose of distaste, whilst Roman makes amused comments every now and then. “I didn’t even know we had potatoes,” he comments at one point. 

“Well you don’t _anymore,”_ Janus replies, throwing what’s left of them in the bin. “You really should write a list of your perishables so you know when they’re due to be chucked, otherwise you end up with…” He pours bleach onto the inside of a now-empty cupboard and scrubs it with a sponge “...flies, or worse, _maggots.”_ He’s sure Roman already knew that; he’s not stupid by any margin, after all, he’s just busy. The poor guy practically works himself to death. 

But what else can he do? They have to pay rent, they have to eat. No matter what there’s always more bills to pay. 

“Thanks,” Roman replies, watching the man throw the scrubber in the sink before picking up the pans and sorting through them. “Yeah, some of those pans are not useable, just chuck ‘em if you think they’re bad, I’ve not had time to sort through them,” Janus nods in response, pushing a set of good pans into the cupboard and handing one to Roman so he can start on the dinner. The other man takes it gratefully, filling it up with water and placing it on the hob. He opens the packet of vegetables and pours them in, opening a cupboard for a stock cube and some salt. 

Janus throws the rusted pans into a bin liner and sorts out the remaining pots and cooking utensils into piles. Once he finishes physically scrubbing them, he places the piles neatly inside. “You need some new wooden spoons, half of the one you’ve got left is _disintegrating,_ ” he laughs softly, looking tired. Roman laughs too, softly, he doesn’t look annoyed or embarrassed, mostly he just appears grateful that someone is doing the work he’s always too busy or exhausted to do. 

And at this point, Janus might as well be a part of the family. Even if Remus is slow to accept that, keeping the other man at arms length. Despite how tired and sad Remus is, Roman knows this is the happiest he’s seen his brother in a very long time, and that is enough for him to decide that Janus is welcome to be a part of this family for as long as he can handle that. So far he’s made it over two months, so that’s a good sign. It might not seem like a lot to Janus, but to Roman who has never seen Remus with the same person twice, it’s a lot. 

When Janus has finished organising the cupboards, the food is just about finished. The smell of cooked vegetables floats in the room, and the blond looks ready to collapse. His once-cold hands are, at least, no longer cold. The crouching down and standing up, and reaching on his tiptoes to grab things out of the cupboards and wash them, had taken care of any cold he’d had. But now the kitchen counters are clear, and the dishes that had been cluttering are washed and put away. The bin bag of faulty utensils and rotten food is tied off and left to the side of the kitchen. 

“Thank you,” Roman says, as the smaller man sits down at the table. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Look you’ve been cooking food for me for the last two months Roman, least I can do is clean up a fuckin’ bit.” Roman gives a small smile. “I hope it helps.” He adds quietly with a sigh, but his thoughts are elsewhere and it’s clear.

“Did he apologise?” Janus nods. “Well at least you get that luxury,” Roman offers a grim sort of smile, his eyes avoid Janus’ for a moment and the blond can see the bags under his eyes in the dull kitchen light. “I’ll be honest Janus, I don’t know what’s wrong with Remus and neither does he, well, I think we both have an idea.” Janus nods a little in agreement. That sort of sadness isn’t just sadness, he knows that; he’s seen it before. It’s something so much harder to deal with. He just hopes Remus can deal with it.

“I don’t care so much about what happened, I just want to know how I can help.”

“Well, cleaning up was a good start,” Roman chuckles. “I can actually see the fuckin counters now, I’ll help you do the other rooms because honestly there’s a lot of junk that just needs chucking.” Janus nods with a small smile. “I think you’re good for him though, I don’t know if that’s enough, I don’t think it will make him fixed or healed or whatever, but you make him smile and that’s a damn good start, who knows maybe you’ll even get that reckless bastard into some therapy, now _then_ wouldn’t hell freeze over?” 

Janus laughs a little and nods, leaning up off the counter and glancing at the clock. “How are those vegetables doing?” 

“I think they’re cooked but don’t hold me to it.” Janus peers into the pot and nods with a satisfied hum. Stew is fairly easy to make, he used to make it for his mother because it’s full of nutrients, but is easy to stomach; and quite like Remus, she was often stuck in lethargy and not prepared to eat, certainly not prepared to cook. He’d ended up doing most of that stuff, cooking and cleaning. Which was alright, he liked having something to do and cooking was often not all that strenuous for him. 

They start serving up the food into bowls just as Remus walks through the door, he takes a deep breath in as he smells the cooked veg, scrambling to sit down as Janus puts the bowl down in front of him with an amused smile. Sometimes, this man can be a little like a puppy, he thinks. His appetite must be returning because he eats slowly, but with the general hunger of a man who hasn’t eaten in days. He’s _barely_ eaten in days. Janus sits beside him and eats at the same pace, not wanting the other man to feel alone even in that.

After dinner, Janus asks if Remus would like to stay at his house tonight, he suggests it might be nice for Remus to have a change of scenery. Roman perks up by a large mile at the sound of having the house to himself, but they both pretend they don’t see that. Whilst Remus half-runs up the stairs to pack a bag, Janus asks Roman what he’ll do for the rest of the night. The grin on his face when he says Patton will be coming over makes the smaller man laugh a little, nodding in understanding. Remus almost trips down the stairs in his excitement, bag slung over his shoulder. 

“You two behave,” Roman hums at the two of them. 

“I always behave,” Remus pouts. 

“Yeah, badly,” Roman replies. Before the two can start bickering again, Janus leans down to pull his shoes back on, sitting down on the bottom of the steps to tie the laces. Remus plonks down beside him, sliding his boots back on his feet. They look heavy, probably heavier than Remus’ entire body, they look like proper army boots. 

“Sorry I didn’t do the dishes,” Janus stands up to pick up his coat as he speaks. 

“I’m sure I can handle a few bowls and spoons after you cleaned the entire kitchen,” Roman replies, a small smile on his lips as he shakes his head. “You two go and relax, I’ll take care of everything else.” Janus nods with a small smile, stepping towards the door. “Look after him.” 

“I am right here,” Remus waves a hand. “I can look after myself!” 

“Mhm,” Roman gives a much more amused smile, raising his eyebrow, Remus sticks his tongue out like a child in response, following Janus’ laughter out of the front door, but not before he flips his brother off. All it gets is a laugh back, and the front door closes behind him on the way out. The cold air makes the two shiver, but they don’t pay it much mind as they start to walk down the street. The streetlamps are on now, the only light in the darkness. They walk under their little spotlights, breathing out little clouds of breath into the almost-winter air as they talk. 

Now that he’s eaten, Remus seems to have more energy, bouncing a little as he walks, occasionally gesturing out wildly as he speaks. Janus just watches him with a smile, walking a couple of steps behind as he just lets his friend be happy because his happiness tends to be in short stack these days. 

He unlocks his front door and holds it open for Remus, who stares inside it with an open mouth, it’s not particularly big, but it is too big. “How is all this just for one person?” He asks, lips agape as he peers down at the nice carpets and polished wooden floors, before leaning down to take off his boots before he goes literally anywhere in this place. Janus does the same, walking a little down the hallway to open the cupboard door under the stairs. Remus places his shoes inside of it, and hangs up his jacket on the pegs inside, it only has another three coats in there, and one looks like it hasn’t been disturbed in years.

“It was my mother’s, well it was my parent’s house first, but it became my mother’s, and now it’s just...mine.” A slowly sinking ship that he forgot to get off of. Remus’ eyes trail from the high ceiling and pretty lights, down to Janus, his eyebrows furrowed. Janus feels his heart sink into his stomach before the other man has even opened his mouth. 

“What happened?” 

Janus’ jaw tenses, he closes the cupboard door, looking down at his feet. “Which time?” he responds finally, after a moment that is far too long. 

“Uh...both I guess?” 

He nods. “My father left before I’d made it to being a teenager really, although he wasn’t really part of the family before that, he never hit me or my mum or nothing, but he always made us feel like he was going too; all I remember of him was him shouting or arguing or acting like he was going to hit me.” He crosses his arms over his chest as if the weight of his words weren’t suffocating enough. “My mother died when I was 17.” _‘Please don’t ask more,’_ he thinks to himself, he hopes Remus doesn’t. Because he doesn’t want to lie to him and doesn’t want to make him feel like he’s done something wrong, but he also does not want to have to say those words. He’d managed his entire life without having to talk about it.

But Remus doesn’t really know when to let a thing go. “What did she die of?” Janus feels his entire body stiffen, he swears he takes a step back too but for a moment all he can see is _her._ Lying there. He can’t dodge that thought, that image, forever. Maybe talking about his past will help Remus be honest about his own. 

“Heartbreak,” he mutters after the seconds have reached a minute. “My dad was a piece of shit, he was volatile and angry and he betrayed her so many times, but she loved him...she wasn’t the same after he left.” He takes a deep breath in and unwinds his folded arms to his sides as he exhales. “I came home from college…” 

He can see it, _unlocking the front door, stepping through the door, the chill of autumn rushing over him. His hands were cold as he’d opened the door and stepped through, wiping his shoes off on the mat and unlacing his shoes, toeing them off the rest of the way and leaning down to pick them up._

“...it was just an ordinary day, it didn’t seem any different, but she was always sad and I knew she was, I was cooking for her and cleaning for her, she barely ever got out of bed in the last few months…”

_Opening the cupboard door and placing his shoes down, they’d been black, like school shoes but for adults, and had scuff marks because he was fond of them and didn’t want a new pair. His mum never noticed really, that his jeans had holes in and so did his sweater sleeves, he didn’t care too much about that, he had money from her when he did the shopping, she wouldn’t care if he’d bought a new pair. He just had more important things to care about. He didn’t want new shoes, he wanted his **mum**. _

“I went upstairs when she didn’t hear me, and that’s when it felt wrong, sometimes she would be asleep when I came home, so when I went upstairs I thought maybe ‘she’s asleep’…” 

_He’d closed the cupboard door and locked the front door, calling up the stairs as he wandered into the kitchen to fill a glass of water, his throat was dry from the cold and the walk home. His college wasn’t too far away, twenty minutes walk maybe. No response, not even the creak of a bed, his eyebrows furrowed as he sipped his water, walking back out to the hallway. “Mum?” He’d shouted up the stairs, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you awake?” It never really sunk in, he had no reason to think that he’d never see his mum again._

“She was just lying there, cold as ice, the smell was the first thing I noticed, then the pill bottles, she was long gone.” 

_He headed up the stairs, wondering if she’d taken her sleeping pills. “Mum?” There was an odd smell in the air, he wondered if she’d taken some food upstairs a few days ago and it had rotted, but he hadn’t smelled it this morning. “Mum?” He stood on the other side of her bedroom door, staring at the white wood with a feeling in his stomach that was terrified. He pushed the door open, the smell is more poignant now. The glass of water in his hand slips to the floor. For a moment all he can do is stare and stare, his whole body rooted to the floor. Then he runs to her._

“The paramedics said she’d passed away in her sleep, that it wouldn’t have been painful for her, she wouldn’t have felt it because she was asleep.” He doesn’t know when he’d started crying, but there are tears falling from his eyes. “I didn’t know what to do, or say, I was seventeen, I wasn’t ready to be an independent adult.” He laughs humorlessly, shaking his head. “But I guess I already was anyway.” 

_The paramedics came within minutes, they identified the cause of death once they were able to separate the hysterical blond from her body. One of them holds him as he grips their jacket, he’s sure he’s screaming, he’s out of breath, his throat is even drier, he’s not sure he’ll ever stop crying. They tell him it’s okay, they ask if there’s someone they can call, but he can’t breathe, he doesn’t want anyone else, he wants his **mum**. He wants her **back**. He tells them to bring her back, he says it so much his lungs feel like they’re going to give out. He screams at her “How could you leave me?” He tears away from the hold the paramedic has on him and leans over his mother’s body. “How could you leave me behind?” His voice comes out a hoarse whisper at best, his legs giving out underneath him as he clutches her cold, dead hand. **“How could you leave me behind?”**_

“They asked me if I wanted to move in with my dad, but I was months away from being eighteen, she’d had the sense to write a will, the house was mine, her money was mine, enough to see me through college.” He wipes his eyes, shaking his head. “I told them that if they put that bastard anywhere near me I’ll rip his fucking throat out with my bare hands if I have too, this was _his_ fault.” 

Remus stares at him with a shaky expression on his face, his hands are shaking too, as he steps forward and wraps his arms around his friend. Janus buries his face in his chest and sniffles, his strong arms squeezing the taller body close, just gently, just with the same care, he’d wished he’d been treated with. But suddenly Remus’ illness is not just his own, and now he knows that; Janus had already lost someone to that tiredness and sadness, that word that neither of them wants to speak. 

“This house had felt too big even when she was here.” Remus’ breath shakes when it comes out, the only response he can give. “Let’s go upstairs.” He untangles their bodies and steps back, wiping his eyes with both his hands and taking a deep breath in, and an even heavier breath comes out. He takes Remus’ hand in his own and starts up the stairs like he can’t handle being apart from him right now. The stairs creak under their weight, this house is old, it has seen so many people come and go from its occupancy. 

He pushes open his bedroom door, it’s white, it has a sign on the front with his name on it, the sign has stickers all over it from childhood. He misses being a child when he could pretend he had a family. Well, he has a family now, no matter how fast he’d gotten landed with it. 

“Your room smells nice,” Remus hums after Janus switches on the light, turning off the hallway light shortly after. The other man stares down at the dark blue carpet under his feet, his eyes drifting up to the posters on the wall and the books on the shelves. It’s clean, there’s nothing on the floor except the carpet, and the bed is tidy. He almost looks like he feels sorry to sit down on the neat bed sheets, his hands running over the black pillowcases. There are band posters on the wall, none of them that Remus recognises though. Janus rests his bag down next to the full length mirror opposite from the bed. Remus stares curiously at his own reflection for a moment, sitting up a little straighter and bringing his hands up to his own collarbones, they jut out intrusively. Then his hand lowers and his attention turns to Janus.

“Thanks, I keep it clean, although I’m barely living in it any more thanks to you.” Remus laughs softly, looking down at the blond as he sits beside him, he leans in and catches Janus’ lips softly in his own, close-mouthed but lingering. Then he pulls back and grins a little, it’s not sympathetic or anything like that...it’s just a kind sort of expression. His hand catches Janus’ shirt in a light grip, tugging him towards him a little. The blond laughs very quietly and softly, leaning up to kiss him again. Open-mouthed this time but so slow that the friction of their lips drags like a fire heating up a room. He leans forward, Remus leans back, taking him with him. 

They part for a breath, Janus’ body leaning over the taller’s, it’s a wonder someone so small can feel so imposing. “You mean to tell me you see yourself in that huge fuckin mirror and still don’t think you’re hot shit?” Remus laughs a little, breathlessly, as he looks up at Janus, whose cheeks flush, ducking behind his fringe with a shy grin. As if he could _ever_ really hide from Remus. There’s no escaping that sort of care. Gentle hands cupped his face, thumb brushing over the scarred skin. 

It’s different. 

It’s not a flush of arousal. For a moment Janus thinks he’s going to _cry_. 

He just leans down and kisses Remus instead, pressing their lips together once more. Remus gasps gently into the kiss when Janus’ hand slides up his shirt, his fingers and palm documenting the dips and curves and bumps to his torso slowly. Like a fire heating up a room. Like waiting for the heating to kick in properly. Like dipping into a warm bath that hasn’t really finished being full yet. 

Remus feels something he’s not felt before. 

His hands grip Janus’ shirt with a desperation he’d never known before. With a yearning, desire, want. Not for his body but a feeling like he just cannot be away from his partner for a moment, for a second, for anything less than that.

But he assumes this to be a rare case where his libido works with his brain, so he presses his hips up and noise leaves his lips that could be a whimper or a whine like he’s asking for _something_. 

His friend’s body presses down against him in response, teeth tugging at his bottom lip until he gasps lightly. There’s no rush, no need to be quiet, just the two of them in the light of this room, a little tired and a little breathless. The house is warm, the windows are closed and Remus’ fingertips dig in against Janus’ biceps as his hips rock up against whatever part of his partner’s body he can manage. 

Janus can barely breathe for a moment, his hands tugging Remus’ shirt off of his body and tosses it to the side, he leans up onto his knees to follow suit. Remus sits up, barely able to fathom being apart from the other man as his hands dip under Janus’ shirt and his palms press to the other’s ribs, leaning up to bite and suck at the skin of his torso. The blond’s breath stutters, his hand coming to the back of Remus’ head, he tugs very gently, barely a pull at all, the other man tilts his head back and accepts the kiss that comes. His shirt and jacket fall to the floor.

The brunet’s hands fall to Janus’ jeans, fumbling with the buttons and trembling with adrenaline. He pushes the underwear out of the way just enough to wrap a hand around Janus’ hardening cock, listening to the soft moan the action is rewarded with. Remus thinks, no he _knows_ , that Janus is a lot more fragile than he lets on, but the pleading sound is still like music to his ears. One hand grips the back of the blond’s thigh through the pants that are sliding ever so slightly down his thighs, and he folds himself forward to take the head of the other man’s cock in his mouth. “Re...shit, y-you can't keep doing that.” Remus takes him down his throat and the hand in his hair tightens dramatically. He’d grin if he didn’t have a preoccupied mouth. 

He pulls off after a few moments of the movements, his hand taking over and squeezing the other man teasingly. “Would you like me to stop?” He quirks his eyebrow. 

“A little late now,” Janus mutters, leaning down to press their lips together again, their lips part immediately and the sudden jerk of Remus’ hand has the other man moaning wantonly into his mouth, the sound and rush of air vibrating in his throat. Remus pulls away from him a little, his hand tapping on Janus’ bare chest, the blond leans back before he gets the message and slides off the bed. The taller man stands up after him, bringing their lips together in a kiss that has a tempo much more bruising, his hands tugging the underwear and pants down Janus’ thighs. 

He guides the other man to sit down at the edge of the bed, his own knees hitting the ground as his mouth goes to the inside of the smaller man’s thighs, biting down against the skin, enjoying the way that Janus jerks or whimpers or gasps. He leans back to finish pulling the clothes off of the other man’s body, the look in his eyes like a starving animal as his fingers return to dig in against Janus’ skin, gripping at his thighs as he takes his cock back into his mouth. 

“I swear I was sad a moment a-ago,” Janus whispers, leaning back on his hands and gripping the bed sheets underneath him. Remus snorts a little, almost choking in the process. The blond looks up, into the mirror opposite their bodies. He looks wrecked, his hair mussed and sticking to his skin, his body trembling as Remus’ head bobs between his thighs. He barely recognises his own reflection but a hot flush crawls through his body at the image. 

He shifts his hips into the other man’s mouth, one hand coming up to card through Remus’ dark hair, not tugging, but playing with the strands in the most gentle movement they can manage in a moment like this. Heat sparks through his body, like fireworks ready to explode, like a house about to become unbearably hot, like a warm bath threatening to overflow. 

He sinks beneath the surface of a much warmer kind, pulling his hand away from Remus’ hair to knot in the bedsheets with all the force he’s allowed to have. His breath comes out on pants, spit clinging to Remus’ lips and trailing down his cock. Heat floods and overflows, his hips jerking as his whole body shakes with a force he is unused too. He catches his reflection in the mirror again, once more he doesn’t know who stares back. 

They’re far too pretty to be him. 

Remus’ name rips from his lungs with the same amount of strength as his orgasm does, trembling and shaking and trying so very desperately not to fuck the other man’s mouth as his arms threaten to stop holding his torso up. He leans back onto his elbows, breathing ragged. His heart trips over itself in his chest, not just from adrenaline, but something else, that _damn_ word he’s always avoiding speaking.

The other man’s mouth sucks delicately at the head of his cock, before letting it slip from his grasp, cum leaking over his lips as he swallows. Remus stands with a grin, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand as he stretches out his back and legs. “Good?” He asks, looking eager to know what he _already_ knows. Janus sits up looking like he’d just swam the English Channel twice. 

_“Holy shit.”_ He manages out.

Remus snorts in response. “Need a nap?” He turns a little, checking in the mirror to see if he’d managed to get rid of all the fluid. 

“Not a chance,” Janus grins, his arms wrapping around the other man’s waist and tugging him back into his lap. The noise Remus makes is almost a screech, a giggle on his lips from the sudden flow of being stood and then stumbling backwards to be seated in the other man’s lap. Janus leans up to press a kiss to his shoulder, before resting his forehead against Remus’ spine. He can feel his breath shake, and Remus can feel Janus’ breath fan against his back, running over his skin, in and out and in and out. 

“This doesn’t really work when you’re two foot two and tea leaf,” the taller man comments, shuffling around, so his side is pressed to the other’s chest. 

“Mhm,” Janus mutters, lifting Remus’ body up to sit in his lap properly, before shuffling backwards so his back is against the wall. Remus stares down at him with an unmistakable flush, his breath hitching for a moment. “Do you enjoy knowing you weigh nothing?” The blond asks, tilting his head to the side in mock-innocence. “...you’re looking a little flushed there Re.” 

“Shut up,” they’re both grinning when their lips meet again, Janus’ hand resting firmly to the other man’s inner thigh, thumb drawing circles through the fabric of his jeans. He catches the hitch of Remus’ breath from the moment and presses a little firmer, drawing out a breathless moan. “I wish I’d had time to prepare, I would’ve loved you to fuck me,” he mutters it against Janus’ lips like it’s nothing, but the smaller man can feel and hear the smile in his voice. Payback, probably, for flustering him. 

“You can't just say things like that,” Janus huffs a little, grinning just as much. “I’ve not got enough stamina for it.” Remus laughs softly as their lips meet again, spreading his legs a little to let the hand between his thighs trail further up. That desperation comes back, that desire, that want he’s not used to experiencing for himself. 

Only used to _wishing_ he had. 

Janus cups his cock through his jeans, rolling his palm over the hardening length. Remus’ lips part in a fast exhale, his cheeks flushed with his arousal as he almost forgets to kiss Janus back. The other man applies more pressure, Remus’ hand rests at the back of his partner’s neck, nails scratching lightly as his legs part a little more relaxingly. The blond takes that as a sign he’s doing well, withdrawing the hand just to undo Remus’ jeans, sliding the zipper down. 

He lifts his hips in Janus’ lap and half helps him slide the material down to his knees, before he gives up and rests his body between Janus’ thighs, his legs resting up to the bottom of the bed. His head leans down to rest on the smaller man’s shoulder, getting comfortable as his friend finishes undressing him. His eyes peel open to glance out of the corner of his eyes at the mirror, watching and feeling Janus’ hand wrap around him again. He jerks his hand slowly, soothingly, in a way that has Remus making all sorts of pathetic noises. 

With a little start, Remus realises Janus is making him _crave_ it with those teasing touches. He’s so used to just being handed his climax as an afterthought he hadn’t thought what would happen if someone made him experience every second in torturously slow sensations. 

His body feels so hot, melting under Janus’ touch, and Janus thinks he looks different like that, flushed, eyes lidded, his breath coming out warm against the skin. His movements are lethargic, occasionally shifting and moving into the touch, but mostly half-curled in Janus’ lap, his body smaller in this position. His nails periodically dig into Janus’ skin, like an urge that he can’t manage to speak. A desire he can’t shake. 

But he hands Janus all the control. He always does. 

The hand stops teasing him, it moves a little faster, it tugs arousal through him like a fish to a hook, the gnawing heat approaching boiling point the moment one stroke doesn’t seem to last minutes at a time. “Lie down,” Janus mutters against his hair, his free hand running down Remus’ back. He does as he’s told, leaning up, Janus lets go of him, watches him shuffle up to the top of the bed and then leans down in one fast movement to settle between the other man’s long legs and take the heated skin in his mouth. 

Remus, not expecting the movement so quickly, jolts, his cock hitting the back of Janus’ throat. The blond feels his stomach lurch but controls it, pulling back just to snort a little, shaking his head. “Easy there darling, don’t need a hospital visit.” 

_**Darling.** _

Remus makes a noise, which he cannot discern whether is of arousal or the emotional equivalent of an orgasm. He feels like all his feelings exploded in his chest at the pet name. 

He hasn’t long to consider that as Janus takes him between his lips again, his head bobbing up and down as his tongue pressed to the skin, stimulating it with his movements. His whole body feels so very heavy for a moment, sinking into the rhythm and the bed underneath him. Tension weighs his body down, gnawing at his stomach and gut, dragging through him like nails raking over his insides. It builds and pushes and his noises are frantic, whimpering, desperate. 

Janus’ eyes meet his own as he swallows Remus’ cock down his throat and the other man’s body tenses with a crashing wave of expectation, every movement seems to leave him hanging there and Janus damn well knows it, his eyes alive with some sort of mischief that Remus really cannot shake. He’s playing a waiting game, seeing how long it takes before… “Please,” the brunet whimpers.

The smaller man acquiesces, moving faster, focusing on the head as a hand grips the base of Remus’ cock, jerking him in quick, timely movements. 

Remus is fairly certain there are tears in his eyes when he comes, his voice ringing off the walls. “Jan...Jan... _fuck, fuck **fuck**._” He isn’t sure how many different sounds he makes, wasn’t even sure he could _make_ those noises, but the whole street can probably attest to the fact he can. He crashes down from his orgasm as Janus pulls his head up, swallowing the release on his tongue. Remus stares and stares but nothing is even there in his mind to think, not for a second, not for a moment. 

He’s still _shaking._

Janus sits beside him, unpicking the covers from under his body and tugging them over his body with a small smile. “Good?” He asks. 

“I can’t feel my brain,” Remus replied. “What the hell just _happened?”_

“I just figured there’s no rush, nowhere to be, no-one to disturb us, and you always seem to be in a rush so...I just thought I’d slow it down...was it okay?” 

“I...yeah?” Remus blinks several times. “I enjoyed it.” The way he says the words sound hoarse and like he can’t believe what he’s saying. Janus stares at him with earnest worry. “I’m sorry I’m acting _weird._ ” He sighs, running a stressed hand through his hair, Janus shakes his head. 

“Don’t be sorry, what’s wrong?” Remus wants to sink into those beautiful eyes and that caring expression, he believes that Janus is worried that's not the problem. No-one is that good of a liar and that’s just the sort of person this anxiety-driven blond is; worried, and worried about those he cares about. He’s not had someone to care about in a long time. 

“I’ve just...I’ve been so down and out of it lately and now I’m being weird after you _actually_ made me feel good...sorry, I’m...I’m sorry, about everything, I’m sorry about your mum, I’m sorry about me, I’m sorry that all I do is make you panic and now...I’m doing it again, that was supposed to be good and I was supposed to be happy and instead I’m having a mental _fucking_ breakdown.” He buries his face in his hands for a moment before running them up his face and then through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. 

“Making me panic isn’t all you do,” Janus mutters. “I don’t think you need to be sorry about any of those things, I chose to be here, with you, I understood from the get-go that I was probably going to worry about you sometimes too.” His hand finds Remus’ and intertwines their fingertips together, his thumb brushing circles against the skin. “Do you want to...look I know we’re both constantly dodging around this, because I don’t want to push you to talk about something that you’re not ready to talk about, but a couple of times now we’ve done something like this and you’ve been very tired or just... _distressed_ afterwards?” 

Remus’ jaw tenses. 

“I’m fine.” 

Janus jerks a little, his eyes falling shut. “You’re not,” he mutters out, his voice sounding strained like he wants to scream. “I know you’re not, after what I just told you how could you think I don’t know that you’re not okay?” Remus shakes his head. 

“I’m not...I don’t have the same problem.” 

“No you don’t, but it’s similar isn’t it?” There’s a static silence that couldn’t be cut with a chainsaw, never mind a knife. “You’re not okay, and that’s fine Remus, I don’t...I’m not going to walk away because you’re sad, or angry, I’m not going to walk away if you scream and shout at me, but I need the truth so I can figure out what on earth I have to keep my eyes on, I can’t…” He chokes, Remus’ head darts up in almost terror the second he hears Janus’ voice crack. “I _cannot_ come home one more time and find someone else is gone, never again.” 

He, for some reason, had not considered he was that important to Janus. 

Remus sighs after a long silence, half devastated and the other half almost...irritated. “Sometimes I just get very...sad, I guess, but not sad like something wrong has happened, just sad that I’m alive, that I exist, like it doesn’t matter because it’s hopeless, that sort of sad. And it makes me tired, and like I don’t want to do anything, and sometimes it makes me do things that I don’t really want to do but if I don’t do it it’s even worse.”

Janus stares at him for a long moment. That sounds a lot like his mum had been, always tired and always sad, but not sad, it was more like...depressed, hopeless, everything was futile and nothing mattered at all. Ever. Not even him. It wasn’t _her_ fault, he could’ve helped her and he didn’t, he didn’t know how too. He doesn’t blame her though, that’s important to him, he could _never_ have blamed her.

“Do things like what?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Remus’ entire body seems to tense up like a sudden realisation has hit him, his eyes going very wide as he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, really, I just get a little out of it after we fuck or something cause of all the energy I use.” That makes sense, Remus is tall and thin, it’s a wonder that body even holds him up. “It’s just an energy burnout, that’s all.” 

Janus believes him when he says it, he lies down next to him with a sigh and mutters an “Okay,” because he doesn’t know if there’s anything else he can say. He lets Remus snuggle up against him and bury his face against his chest, his arm cradling Janus’ back as though he’s clinging on for dear life. 

And then they both go to sleep. Because there’s nothing left _to_ do.


	9. So Bad // I could sit and lie to you, but what’s the point, what’s the use?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s softness behind all that avoidance, Janus knows it, and he can’t dodge how he feels for much longer.

Janus wakes up to kisses being pressed to his collarbone and shoulder, he peels his eyes open and glances down at the man curled up beside him, who peeks out from underneath his messy dark hair to grin against his skin. The smile is rewarded by one that is equally amused, the scarred man lifting a hand to card gently through his friend’s hair, playing with the strands. 

After a moment, the taller man becomes a little restless and moves to sit up, Janus smiles up at him. He’d turned the light off last night and opened the curtains after he’d woken up around three in the morning on a whim. The sunlight, coaxed in by the winter, shines over Remus’ pale skin, and he looks illuminated by the golden-pink hue. 

He pats the space of the bed he was previously sat on and turns, letting Janus shuffle up enough into the bed that Remus can sit in his lap. He has this lovely look on his face, like any other twenty-three year old. Happy to be waking up beside his partner, that desirable grin on his face that tells Janus exactly what he’s about to do long before he leans down to press their lips so very firmly together, there’s this energy crackling about him. Janus isn’t entirely sure he can keep up with Remus sometimes, one moment he’s one way, and the next he’s another. That’s alright though, at least he’s smiling right now. 

He likes the feeling of Remus’ weight resting on him, he doesn’t weigh much, or at least not much to Janus who is neither weak nor strong. His lips are dry and they both have to pull away for a moment because the taste of morning breath isn’t pleasant for either of them. Janus manages to direct the brunet to the top draw of his cabinet, where pieces of chewing gum can be retrieved. Whilst they chew that, he admires the man sat in his lap, smiling amusedly as he takes in the room around him in the daylight. Janus is not much of an artist, he’s not handy with a pencil or paints or charcoal, but he understands what it’s like to want a muse when he looks up at his friend. 

For the love of anything holy, a man should _not_ be _that_ easy on the eyes. 

Janus could get addicted to that little smile and his stubbornly out-of-control hair. He is not more or less beautiful when he smiles, that would be an unfair thing to think especially when Remus’ smile is sometimes bitter and forced, but his smile _is_ beautiful. That much is not an argument a person could have. But he supposes Janus would find a frown beautiful in its own morbid way because there’s nothing about Remus that doesn’t drag him through a ringer of emotion that he’s never prepared to have. 

They spit the chewing gum into wrappers and drink from Janus’ water bottle before their lips meet again. It’s slow at first, a slow drag of seconds that somehow leave them both flushed and breathless. Janus’ hands rest on Remus’ hips, and the taller’s hands are placed to either side of his partner’s head, supporting his body. There’s nothing about the situation that would appear less than innocent, the kiss is not hard or fast, there’s no biting or desperation. It’s just a kiss, shivering under the brush of tongues and capturing the other’s breath between their own lungs. 

Janus would rather not like to breathe in any other way that isn’t from Remus’ lips. It’s the only oxygen he wants or needs for the rest of his life, he’s decided. 

Remus bears down against him, leaning his body further into the kiss, the friction of their bodies elicits a shiver in Janus, and despite the fact he can feel his own and the other man’s arousal and has for the past few minutes, it wasn’t really until his bare hips press down that he really, really notices. Naked bodies adding a little heat is to be expected, and if he got genuinely worked up every time his cock decided it wanted the attention he’d never get anything done. But Remus’ cock digs into him and all he wants is to please the other man. Is _that_ desire? Not so much for himself, but wanting to make someone else happy, to bring them relief, that must be a whole different kind of arousal.

He’s inarguably submissive sometimes. 

Remus pulls away from him a little, looking down at Janus. His long hair falls into some of his gaze and Janus can’t help but reach up and cup that strong jawline, his thumb trailing against the other man’s chin, rubbing against the stubble there. Remus gives a grin and tilts his head back. His eyebrow quirks a little, and the blond isn’t entirely sure what he wants. “No?” The taller man asks with a hum. 

“I...uh...sorry...I don’t know what you want?” Remus laughs then, short and amused, but not mocking. He lifts his left hand, his body weight resting on one hand as the other places over Janus’ hand and guides it a little further down and to the side. His palm rests at the front of Remus’ throat and his eyes widen a little. “I can’t do that!” His voice comes out hoarse. “It could crush your windpipe or some shit.” 

“Not if you do it right, it feels really nice, like...adrenaline-inducing,” Remus hums, Janus pulls his hand away and to his own chest, not really liking how it even looks. “I can show you how to do it so it doesn’t hurt if you like,” he doesn’t know if he would like, maybe Remus really _is_ an oddball, one of the kinky men. There again this man owns and wears leather pants and collars so maybe that should not be so much of a surprise. 

“Do it on me first, so I know it doesn’t hurt,” he could do without being so self-sacrificial. Remus looks surprised, but sits up a little more, getting in a comfortable reaching distance that wouldn’t have him not putting enough or too much pressure on. The blond fidgets a little, nervousness in his eyes as he tilts his head back a little to give Remus access. The hand rests against his throat, Remus long and thin fingers teasing the sides of his neck. 

“You don’t put pressure on the front, you just…” he squeezes the sides of his friend’s neck with enough pressure that Janus feels the air struggle to crawl up his throat, but not enough that it causes him to panic. It takes him a moment to put together the sensation he’s feeling, but once he realises the sound that escapes him is a soft, strained moan. His cock twitched the moment the pressure had been applied, but he hadn’t registered it for a moment. “...squeeze, not too hard, not too soft.” 

Janus doesn’t really know what to do with the information he’d just been handed, all his words stand in an order that isn’t what he wants them to be. Eventually, he just gives up and says _“Okay.”_

Is _he_ the kinky one now that he’s enjoyed that? 

“Do you want me to do it again?” Remus asks, looking perhaps for the first time rather unsure. It’s an endearing expression, swallowing dryly down his throat before his lips hang parted with words he doesn’t know how to say. 

He looks out of his depth, which is strange because he’d just taught Janus that being choked is something they can enjoy, human beings that is, things that bodies can enjoy. 

“C-Could you?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, and he feels how hot his cheeks go. Now they’re both out of their depth, but at least _logistically_ Remus knows what he’s doing. The hand comes back to his throat, and even the presence without weight has his whole body feeling hot. Then the pressure, Remus’ nails press to the area close to his jugular. A slightly strangled gasp reaches past the blond’s lips, his hips shifting up in a shallow movement, the blood pooling in his brain and abdomen and abandoning the rest of his body. He feels boiling and cold all at once. 

The pressure releases and Remus’ hand returns to the space next to Janus’ head on the pillow, he leans down and kisses him, moving his body to press down, aligning their hips together so their lengths press next to each other, trapped into to the heated flesh of their bodies. He doesn’t know what to make of how dizzy on lust he feels, parting his lips for the taller man’s tongue, his hands sliding against all the skin he can touch. There’s a trembling reverence in his movements. 

Remus ducks away from the kiss and buries his face to the other man’s neck, leaning his weight down so he can focus all the energy to his grinding hips. Janus’ hands hold onto the other’s back, his nails digging in slightly as he rocks up with desperation to the body on top of his own. The mattress dips beneath the weight of their rocking movements, aching muscles burning and their skin in a friction-induced fire. 

The breath of the burnet comes out hot between bites and kisses to his friend’s neck, his tongue brushing up the scarred skin and sinking into the juncture where his neck meets collarbone. 

But the hapless grinding bears nothing more than a gnawing frustration, hanging in limbo between constant arousal and a climax that isn’t going to come from this alone. Janus’ hand slides between their bodies, Remus lifts his hips a little to let the other navigate. He catches the precum against his palm and fingers and jerks them both with quick strokes, his arms ache as much as his thighs fairly quickly, but the adrenaline-filled promise of an orgasm keeps him pushing through it. 

Janus comes first, his whole body jolting and tensing with his release, Remus watches him like a voyeur, a growl on his tongue as he kisses the dazed expression off of his face. The lethargy, not the sad kind, but the energy-lost kind, begins to sink in so Janus presses him down into the mattress and admires how he looks in the sunlight. His body half resting against the wall, his skin tinted pink from his blush and exercise, his cock leaking against his stomach, clearly yearning for his release. 

He doesn’t ask or demand just looks up at Janus with some sort of soft whimper of want on his tongue. The other doesn’t keep him waiting. He pays no mind to the come and sweat sticking to his skin as he spits on his hand and jerks Remus’ cock in long, firm, but not hard or fast strokes, pulling him closer and closer to the edge. He studies how fast the other man devolves to moans and whimpers, hips jerking, hands threading through the mattress sheet and tugging. 

He unwinds with a cry of Janus’ name, spilling over his friend’s hand and his own warm body. His voice is dry from the repeated sounds by the time he stills.

He wants to kiss him, he wants to hold him, he wants to taste every inch of his body, he wants to slide his nails up his skin, wants to keep him here all day and night. But all that is shattered by the sound of his own phone ringing. The blond closes his eyes for a moment, presses a soft kiss to Remus’ lips and slides off the bed, digging through his pocket for the little mobile he has. He fumbles with the buttons, still not really used to the damn thing as he answers and brings it to his ear. 

His boss needs him to come in unexpectedly. He really hates his chosen career sometimes. 

But it is extra money and extra money means extra food and other things for Remus. He hums lightly down the phone, still only half-caught his breath as his eyes land apologetically on his friend, who is biting back a snort at his expression. He doesn’t look upset, although he can hear the voice pouring through the tinny speaker. When the phone clicks off, Janus rolls his eyes and drops the thing onto the bed, holding out a hand, Remus slides off the bed to his feet, taking it in his own. He leans down to kiss Janus softly, humming into the join of their lips as they both stumble towards the bathroom. 

Nothing eventful happens, thank anything out there, Janus doesn’t want to have to come up with a reason why he’s late. He also never wants to shower alone again, enjoying sliding the soap over Remus’ skin and letting the hot water run over them. There’s more room here, as he has an actual bath, but they both have to fight a shower curtain at least twice before they escape. 

“You can stay here if you like,” Janus hums, tugging a spare key out of the drawer. “Or if you want to go and come back there’s the key.” Remus stares at the piece of metal with an unreadable expression. “I’ll see you in a little while, I should be back by five, hopefully.” He presses a soft kiss to Remus’ lips and grins wide. 

He goes out in his usual work pants and shirt, his jacket hanging off his shoulders and his backpack on his back, but he’s wearing that smile long after he gets on the train. It’s just a good day today, he can feel it. Remus was happy this morning, and most of last night and that excitement is infectious and blissful. He could ride that out for the rest of the day at the very least, he knows these days don’t last forever and doesn’t much want to dwell in the future when it’s always uncertain. 

He doesn’t blame that on Remus. He didn’t blame his mother for her suicide either, he’d felt scared and lost and abandoned when she’d died, but her pain was something he couldn’t solve. At the time she must have felt that nobody could solve it either. He wishes she had gotten help, that he had helped her and that anyone had helped her in the slightest. But he doesn’t blame himself either. She was sick, that was not anyone’s fault, just a cruel trick nature happened to play on her of all people. 

Similarly, his uncertainty of the future, digesting Remus’ ups and downs, it isn’t Remus’ fault. He doesn’t blame the fear he has on his friend, that would be counter-productive; if he wants to help Remus and if, eventually, Remus wants to help himself, doing so out of guilt would only half do the job. Remus is sick too, and he can’t carry that sort of worry with him alongside his depression if that is what it is. 

Janus just likes to see him happy. For now, Remus is happy, and that’s good, they can deal with the future when it comes. _Together._

He doesn’t know when he stopped thinking of them as separate entities. 

Janus goes through the day with a small sort of smile on his lips, recalling Remus’ laughter and the way his body jerked under his touch, getting through his work easily. Surprisingly the little thoughts don’t distract him from his work, only make him more eager to get it done so he can go home. 

By the time he’s appearing back on his doorstep, Remus is sat outside smoking a cigarette, he bounces up to his feet when he sees Janus, flicking the cigarette over the garden wall and grabbing his hand wordlessly. The blond has barely gotten his bag off his back before he’s being slammed into the closed front door. It’s a jarring movement, it almost winds him and certainly knocks all the air from his lungs. His hands struggle to find a place to rest, gripping his friend’s shirt so tightly he swears his knuckles turn white.

If all he’s done today is work and fuck, he’ll take that. 

His jacket falls to the hallway floor, his shoes abandoned along the way to the stairs as their lips meet in a series of breathless kisses. His shirt is left on the steps, Remus’ a little further up. He trips on one of the ridges of the stairs and lands backwards. He laughs, Remus laughs too, lying on the stairs with one foot pressed flat against whichever had managed to stop him sliding down. He stares up at Remus, who kisses him again, slowly, but with an intensity that has his hips twitching. 

“Good day?” Janus whispers, dazed, smiling, eyes blinking in search for some gravity. 

“All the better for seeing you,” Remus mutters, leaning back and helping Janus to his feet. “You?” 

“Adequate, missed you,” he catches Remus’ hand in his own and tugs him up the remainder of the stairs. He’s at a loss for many things right now, common sense, words, expression, but certainly not the coal-hot desperation that runs through him so hard he feels like he’s about to tumble over a dangerous edge. He’s been thinking about Remus’ touch all day, now that they’ve finally had an experience that doesn’t feel like tying a noose. 

He’s so addictive regardless. His personality is as forceful as cocaine, as dangerous as heroin, and as blissful as ecstasy. Every time he takes another hit of Remus his body burns with the need for more and more; is that love, or is it suicide? What’s the difference here, is he _supposed_ to crave someone’s soul and body like this? Is this what it means to be cared for by someone, that their existence is the axis in which the world spins?

Remus's hands tug at his pants and he steps out of them before they’ve really got through the bedroom door. He likes having Remus on top of him, his hair falls much more delicately than he himself is. His personality seems to be why hurricanes are named after people. 

“I need you,” Remus mutters, it’s not uttered with the arousal that Janus is expecting, for a second the look on his face is anything but. He isn’t talking about sex; he’s talking about...Janus, in his _entirety_. But the look is dissolved in another kiss, and although it burns into Janus’ eyes and might for the rest of his life, he disregards it to get Remus out of those far too tight jeans. 

Remus’ hips rest between Janus’ thighs, both down to their underwear with the whole home scattered in a trail of breadcrumbs as evidence of their own desperation. Janus can feel his friend’s pulse hammer, but can barely fathom the prospect of breaking their endless series of kisses to take this further. His body presses up and up, hands trailing up all the skin he can find, he’s panting, he’s out of breath, he doesn’t _want_ to breathe. He just wants to exist in this space. 

The walls of this room couldn’t once feel more like a haven. This house is not so haunted with Remus’ body bearing down on him. 

The brunet pulls away, his pale skin tinted in rose hues and his shoulders shaking as he tries to find air. His eyes are wide, studious, documenting all the emotions neither of them can bring themselves to admit. Perhaps the word love isn’t for them. “I can’t bear to lose another person,” might be the closest Janus gets to ever admitting how he feels. “I need you,” might be Remus’ close call to uttering what other people say so casually, without thought. 

Love is not casual, or without thought for either of them. 

“Can you…?” The word ‘fuck’ doesn’t feel right, he doesn’t have another one to offer. _“...please?”_

“Did you..?”

“Yeah, you can use a condom if you _want._ ” Janus’ arm leans his body upwards and Remus slides off of him, the movement followed in quick succession to Janus holding himself over the taller man’s body. 

He looks like he should be more fragile than he is. Both of them do, actually. 

“Do you _want_ me to use a condom?” They should, but that judgement call had come and gone a few times now, and Janus’ lips are chapped from the winter. 

“Not really,” not for the usual reasons. Not because he craves an inch of danger, his life resting in the hands of fate or a benevolent god, or a man with a vendetta. Not because he longs for the ecstasy of his own tears. Not because he wants to be hurt. Plainly because he wants to know how Janus feels inside him without barriers, and he wants Janus to know how that feels in kind. 

Janus doesn’t want to part from the other’s body long enough to grab a bottle of lube from his drawers. He does though, and then he clambers back to Remus’ body like it’s the only home he’s ever known. 

It’s surprisingly delicate, the way he slides the other man’s underwear off his legs, pushes the pillows under his hips, asks him if he’s comfortable twice or a hundred times. He’d done this before, but he’s certainly nervous. Remus watches him like a startled cat, unnerved but not by this, not by sex. He’s a little bit past that. He’s unnerved by how much he _wants_ it. 

His body tenses when Janus stretches him open, but the other man kisses him through the movement and he sinks like a stone to the bottom of a river. The other man’s fingers work him open methodically, rhythmically, like a heartbeat picking up speed, like a metronome losing its time. 

He gets lube all over the pillows, but neither of them really care. It’s sex, it’s messy. 

“I’m okay, you know,” Remus mutters after what feels like days or maybe five minutes, he can’t really tell, he’s never felt relaxed during a moment like this. He’s not even entirely sure he’s aroused. Janus hums, twisting his fingers a little. 

“Trying to figure this out.” He admits, a smile that’s definitely shy on his lips. Remus laughs shortly, amazed. 

“Back a bit,” he utters, “mhm...crook your fingers like this,” he demonstrates the movements with his own fingers. Janus copies the movement. “I can’t really navigate it, but in that general area and just... _oh,_ ” His body jerks just a little, his cock twitching. “Yeah, there,” he’s unusually embarrassed, his cheeks flushed, he just wasn’t all that prepared. Janus repeats the movements, having Remus gasping and moaning before he’d even gotten further. For a moment, the taller man considers Janus might not get in him at all. _“Jan…”_ his voice comes out strangled, high-pitched, he doesn’t recognise it as his own from how much desire is carved into it. _“Please?”_

The blond eases his fingers out, wiping them off on the pillow. He pours lube onto his hand and strokes himself, his cock had softened despite how genuinely lust-inducing his partner currently looks. He bites his lip in concentration, easing himself back to hardness before he leans his hand beside Remus’ body and eases his hard length into him agonisingly slow. 

Remus can see the realisation cross his face by the time Janus has eased in. He would laugh, or grin, or _something_ if it didn’t make his heart skip a thousand beats. Old habits must certainly die hard because the fact he had made such a heated expression cross Janus’ face fills him with the feeling of pride, of _worthiness_. 

The blond rests inside him, biting his lip, feeling the bare heat surrounded him as his eyes fall shut just for a second. He’s trying to gather some restraint and composure. 

“Do what you need to do, I won’t break.” Dangerous words and a dangerous game to play with someone who doesn’t know how to control that side of them. Sometimes Janus thinks Remus might intend to make a monster out of him yet. 

He rests his weight down and his forehead to Remus’ collarbone, catching his own breath as he draws out his hips and pushes in again, moaning against the other’s skin from the movement. Remus’ arm wraps around the other man’s body, holding him, his heels resting to his back. Janus feels like prey, even though he should be the freest of them. 

He flusters easily, sinking into the repetitive movements, the headboard thuds against the wall as they rock to a pulse of their own creation. Janus leans up a little once he’s gathered some semblance of composure and is used to the tight heat surrounding him, his hand between their bodies to stroke Remus’ cock in his hand, looking down at the other. 

He rocks his hips with his thrusts, the other man jerks beneath him, eyes lidded as he pants out various curse words, his breath hiccuping with the movements. Janus doesn’t remember it feeling that good when he’d been receiving this, but Remus looks absolutely wrecked, his body surrendering entirely to the other man, his nails carving lines into Janus’ skin. 

His expression alone would be enough to drive Janus crazy, of that he’s sure. But Remus is unrealistically photogenic, but that might just be because Janus is also unrealistically attached to the man. 

The blond leans down to suck and bite and Remus’ skin, multitasking three things as hot arousal burns into his nerves. He pants against his skin, timing the movements of his hand to the roll of his hips, relishing in the way Remus presses up against him. His friend's hand threads through his hair, not tugging, or gripping, but still tangling in the soft yellowish strands, whilst the other continues to drag through the skin of his back, marking him. 

Is he supposed to feel claimed by Remus’ touch? He couldn’t imagine belonging to anyone else. 

This is all too fast, he barely knows how to stabilise his own emotions. 

_“Jan…”_ He opens his eyes, looks up at the panting man. Remus’ body jerks, maybe it’s the look in Janus’ eyes, how lost, how eager to please, how endeared, how in love. Remus whimpers out his name again and the blond takes it as his cue to speed up. 

His own body feels like it’s been dipped into a volcano, friction and exertion making his muscles ache and burn. 

He leans up a little again, focusing, concentrating, holding himself back as best as he can, willing himself not to give in too easily. Janus doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t _ever_ want it to end. Remus’ hand stays wrapped in his hair, his fingertips pressing soothingly to his scalp. The hand tightens in anticipation and tugs, but Janus doesn’t mind, looking down at the other man and studying through a haze his expressions. The brunet’s hair falls into his screwed-up eyes as he body tenses and squirms beneath Janus’ gaze, his lips parted in a broken moan, for a moment all he does is breathe, frantically focusing on his release, and then his body unwinds, jerking as he releases in a relieved series of sounds. 

Janus gives up holding back, burying himself inside his partner as he fills him, his arms trembling with the exertion but not willing to cease as his adrenaline-induced high pushes through the aches and pains. 

Then he rests his body forward, his head bowed and eyes falling closed, his shoulders and chest rising and falling with waves of his breathing. 

He feels, for a moment, like he’s walking across a plane of existence that isn’t his own and it has nothing to do with his orgasm. His heart beats so fast. That’s adrenaline, that’s _supposed_ to happen. Remus’ hand is still running through his hair gently, it’s a calming sensation, lulling him. It’s _that_ , the movement, the hand in his hair, the legs unwinding from his back, the hand gently running over the scratch marks it had left. That makes him feel...not _real_ for a moment, tangled up in his own emotions. 

He lifts his head and eases their bodies apart, kneeling back and catching his breath. Remus looks thoroughly exhausted, a lax smile on his lips, sweat and come and spit making a mess of his body. Bruises that Janus doesn’t remember leaving stand stark against the pale skin of the other man’s chest and collarbones. Janus realises his back hurts. He slides off the bed and peers in the mirror, his back facing it. 

Remus made him _bleed._

A soft noise of surprise passes his lips. He’d barely noticed at the time, hadn’t even really felt it, Remus gives a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. Janus sort of likes it. The lack of apology and the fact that his back will be scarred for at least a couple of days. Maybe if he digs a little deeper Janus could have some scars that are worth having. 

“It’s okay,” he leans down and kisses Remus much more softly than he’d intended. “Shall I run a bath?” 

“What are you, a victorian maid?” Remus grins up at him, his hand running up Janus’ arm gently. 

“My lord,” The blond mock-bows his head, a grin of equal measure on his lips. “Bath?” 

“Sure.” 

Remus stands alone but Janus still reaches for his hand, categorising the slight grimace on his lips as they take note of the damaged pillowcase. “I’ll put that in the wash later,” he has more pressing matters right now, taking Remus’ hand and tugging him towards the bathroom. He runs the bath, pouring soap bubbles into the surface and watching them form. He sits on the closed toilet lip and Remus sits on his lap, entranced by the bubbles. He supposes, having no bathtub, such things are precious to Remus. 

Janus finds himself lightly massaging at Remus’ lower back, reminded that last time he’d complained he was in pain. The taller man leans into the touch with a small smile on his lips, humming slightly in approval. He seems relaxed, Janus doesn’t know what changed or what’s going on for him, if it’s real or forced, but he doesn’t know how to ask. 

He never knows how to ask. 

When the bath is finally full, with the mix of hot and cold water, the two get into it. Janus leans against the back of it, sighing with relief as the water washes over his body. Remus lies with his back to the other man’s chest, holding soap bubbles up to his face with a smile, before blowing them back into the water. He laughs softly, it’s such an innocent thing to be happy about, and Janus adores that, adores _him_. He plays with the damp hair lying against his chest, and Remus tilts his head back to grin at him as he does. 

Janus will remember that moment for the rest of his life. A moment that could easily have never happened, a moment that neither of them really thought about, that occurred out of sheer natural need. Remus looks up at him, his hair tangling around Janus’ fingertips with that wide smile, ecstatic, like they’d gone to a fairground and he was dizzy from one of the rides. Like he’d just won a prize on a stall. Neither of those things _had_ happened, he was simply that happy to be lying in a bubble bath with Janus. The smaller man feels the backflip his heart does in his chest, inhaling so sharply he wonders if he’d choke.

It was that moment, that exact moment, that he knows he can’t run away from this anymore. 

He _loves_ Remus. Or at least the equivalent. Love for Janus is nothing worth being excited over, it’s just heartache and so much of it. But he adores Remus, he craves understanding him, and when he smiles he feels like he’s having a heart attack, he feels honoured just to see that smile sometimes. 

So for now, he’s happy just tracing that smile with his eyes, as Remus closes his own, resting his head back into a more comfortable position and staring absently at the ceiling. The silence is not painful, or static, Janus adores listening to the other man just... _breathe_ ; to exist in the same space as someone with no interruption is perhaps the most intimate endeavour one can undertake. 

Remus sits up eventually and so does Janus, with a slight wince from being in one position for too long. He washes Remus’ back for him, down his arms. He’d noticed before but not said anything, but there are scars on the upper part of Remus’ arms and his back. They’re not obvious, they look old, but whenever they were made, they’re large enough to have hurt a whole lot. He runs the soapy sponge over them with delicacy, dips the sponge beneath the water and rinses the soap away, his other hand simply touching the skin of Remus’ other arm, brushing against the skin with only the desire to feel him warm under the touch. 

He washes his hair too, and the other man laughs at first, insists that he can do it himself. “I know you can,” Janus mutters, “...but tell me it doesn’t feel more enjoyable for me to do it.” Remus falls silent at that, his smile fond as he tilts his head back into the hands that push shampoo through the strands. The taller man sinks into the rhythm, his shoulder slumping forward, back slightly arched as he rests his forearms to his knees, which are drawn up to his chest. He stares at the water, at the soap bubbles, a little absence in his expression as he loses himself to the ticking seconds and other thoughts. Janus tugs a little at his hair and he startles just a little. “Where are you?” Janus asks, half amused and the rest worried. 

“Somewhere else, usually,” Remus smiles gently, shivering suddenly. “I could do with a drink,” he mutters softly. Janus had not, so far, tasted any alcohol on Remus’ tongue, he hadn’t for the last couple of days at all really. He’d like to keep it that way, sometimes he worries far more than strictly necessary about his friend. 

“I’m not that bad am I?” he asks, wondering if the amount Remus drinks is healthy for a body that frail. “Maybe later,” he mutters. “I haven’t anything in.” He doesn’t want to appear overbearing, Remus is a full-grown man, but he has to admit he is worried about the other. 

“I brought a couple of smokes if you’re interested.” 

“ _‘Your room smells nice’_ he says, before smoking something commonly referred to as ‘skunk’ in it,” Remus laughs at Janus’ amused tone, reaching for the soap to clean off the rest of his body. “Sure, if you want too,” he doesn’t want Remus too, but he also thinks smoking alone would be worse for him. 

They both rinse off under the shower until they’re finally free of soap suds and bubbles. Remus dries his hair and it sticks up a little once the towel retreats, making Janus laugh a little. 

They both lie back on the bed with a small haphazardly-rolled joint each. They use an old tin as an ashtray and don’t say much more. Janus has a hundred things he wants to say: _‘Are you okay?’_ , _‘You look tired again,’_ , _‘Did you want to smoke or did you **need** too?’_, _‘Tell me your story,’_ , _‘I adore you’_ , ‘ _I adore you,’_ , _**‘I adore you.’**_ He says none of these things, and Remus is grateful, even if he cannot know what isn’t said, that he doesn’t.


	10. Chapter 10: Ramblings of a Lunatic // I'm running from my emptiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus is going to have to pull the truth out of Remus, because he can’t help him otherwise.

One of the few constants in the world is that when you throw a ball in the air, gravity will pull it back down. It’s a law of physics, most things that go up, also come down. Janus is coming to understand that Remus is like that too. He goes up at a velocity that makes everything around it seem to slow, so full of energy and happiness and exuberance, and then with that same force he hammers into the dirt and stays there for weeks on end. Up and down. Over and over. It’s a cycle that Janus does _not_ know how to break, and he doesn’t think Remus knows either. 

It’s approaching December, and the sadness is growing with the frost on the ground. The trees are losing their leaves, and Remus is losing all of his will. Janus had been at their house since Friday, and Remus had barely gotten out of bed, it’s now Sunday evening.

The last time he was happy, it was as if he’d never known sadness in his life, and he was insatiable. His body was in constantly craving for sex and drugs and alcohol. 

Now it’s as though all he knows is exhaustion. He can barely move, like he’s made of lead, like the bed he’s lying on is chaining him there, refusing to let him leave. Janus doesn’t know how to help, not really, but he does what he can and what he’s familiar with. He cooks for him and makes sure he’s eaten, he makes sure he’s drinking water, he prises alcohol from Remus’ grip and tells him, much firmer than he’d wanted, that he can’t drink anymore. He talks to him so he has some company, but sometimes he feels like all he’s talking to is a ghost, or a brick wall.

It’s _hard._

He feels guilty for thinking it’s hard, because for Remus it must be infinitely worse to lie there and barely be coherent in his own sense of self. It must be horrible to live like this. But it is hard and Janus can’t get rid of that, it’s hard not to care for Remus, but to know he’s in pain and there is fucking _nothing_ he can do about it at all. 

So he cooks. He cleans the kitchen. He tries not to let the other man know he’s sad, talking to him like it’s not a one-way conversation, barely flinching when Remus snaps at him. He understands, it’s okay, he understands it’s not his fault. He doesn’t want to stress the other man out any further by asking him to stop being mean to him. He can handle a few bitter words, he _cannot_ handle losing Remus. 

And it’s _not_ fair, he knows it’s not fair, Roman tells him he deserves to be treated better. Janus says that if he wanted to be treated better he’d be with another man. He doesn’t care about that, that’s a future problem for a version of him that’s lived long enough to see it. That’s for a version of Remus that’s lived long enough to change his attitude. 

Life is just a series of baby steps no matter how old you get, one thing at a time, one domino at a time. You can’t take on everything at once. 

The irritation subsides gradually once more, over the space of a couple of weeks, his attitude siphons off, the tiredness slowly heals itself. It’s gradual and looks torturous. Janus does not envy his partner at all, if that’s what he is, if that’s what they are. He couldn’t imagine at this point they could be anything else; best friends, yes, but Janus seems to have made his choice and well...Remus hasn’t asked him to leave either, so he supposes, although unspoken, that is what they are. 

Janus does not ask Remus what is wrong whilst he is ill. He has half of the story of that he’s sure. He’s also missing half of it. It seems unfair to demand a truth that has been intentionally unspoken but Janus _needs_ it, he needs to know how to help. These spells are getting worse and more frequent, he’s got to be able to prepare for the worst. He can’t do that if he doesn’t even know where to start helping; cooking and cleaning is alright, but it doesn’t really do much for Remus other than keep him physically alive. 

He needs to be _more_ than that, he needs to _live_.

That part is perhaps the selfish part, he cannot lose Remus, he adores him. He has never adored anyone this way. He doubts he’s ever adored anyone at all. Still, he also wants the other man to live for himself, because that is an option, beyond all of this there is that option to live, to grow old, to see the world. Something other than his bed. He doesn’t think Remus knows that, he’s so resigned to his illness that the prospect of leaving this town seems impossible to him.

So he bites the bullet, he knows it’s not going to be pretty, whether Remus tells the truth or not. But, once Remus has started to find his footing in the real world again, Janus asks him the burning question he’s had for far too long now. He does it whilst shaking, sat on Remus’ bed with his eyes staring fixated to his fidgeting hands. “I don’t want to push you,” he starts, his voice shaking. Remus looks like he doesn’t want him to speak, and Janus worries he thinks he’s leaving, he’s not, he doesn’t think he ever will. Well, at least not if _he_ has anything to say about. 

“I don’t want to push you…” he repeats with more conviction this time “...I don’t want to make you talk about things you don’t want to talk about, but I’m worried about you…” he’s always scared of it, the prospect of losing Remus. “I know you’ve explained that you’re sick sometimes, and I understand it, it’s just...it’s getting worse and worse and I think something’s making it worse, and you’re not telling me what it is.” 

His voice shakes when he speaks, sitting like he’s about to bolt out of the room. Remus is sat up against the headboard, face ashen with unnerved avoidance. “The first few times we had sex, afterwards...this happened,” he gestured lightly towards Remus, “...then you were okay again, then everything was okay, you told me about how you feel and then you crashed again.” He pauses for a moment. “I know sometimes this sort of thing can just happen, but I feel like I’m missing something important and...if I’m _not_ , that’s fine, but if I _am_ can you _please_ tell me?” He lifts his his head from where he’s staring at the bedsheets with intensity to meet Remus’ eyes. “I care about you,” he says softly. “I..” No, no, he can’t say that now, not whilst he’s upset it just wouldn’t be right. That sort of thing should be a happy occasion. “I just want to help you.” 

Remus gives him a tired look in response and sighs, sitting up a little straighter, his head resting back against the wall. “Look I’m not a freak, right? I'm not...I’m not a problem.” 

“I know that.” He does.

Remus nods, staring at his hands. There’s a very long silence, like he’s debating whether to turn tail and run, both of them feel like this situation is uncomfortable. Oh well, misery loves company. “The top and tail of it, really, is that sometimes I don’t want to be alive...I say sometimes, most of the time, I think about dying so often I’m not really sure who I’d be without that.” He swallows dryly, Janus reaches for his hand and doesn’t say a word, Remus takes the hand in his own and takes a deep breath in. 

“It started when I was eleven.” A cold feeling spreads through Janus’ chest. “I met this lad, he was seventeen.” His heart stops beating in his chest, by the way Remus picks at the bedsheets, his jaw tense and hands trembling, Janus gets the feeling that cold is about to turn into ice. “He seemed nice when I met him,” his voice comes out a whisper, Janus is terrified that he’s about to start crying. “Asked me to be his boyfriend, I didn’t mind the attention, I mean it’s not like I was getting it from anyone else you know?” He doesn’t meet the other man’s eyes, his cheeks are hot, there’s tears swimming in his eyes. “He…” his voice dies in his throat, and he looks up at Janus, begging him to just understand, so he doesn’t have to say the words. “I said no,” he finally manages out “...I did, I said no so many times, but he didn’t listen, and I was just a kid I didn’t know that’s what he wanted, I didn’t understand, I didn’t…” his voice cracks, his hand snaps back from Janus’ to cover his face, to cover all the tears. 

Remus’ whole body shakes with his tears. 

Janus doesn’t know if he should touch him. He doesn’t know if ‘yes’ and ‘no’ mean anything to Remus anymore. 

“Can I…?” He trails off, not even sure if he’d get the truth. Remus wipes his eyes and closes the distance himself, burying his face in the other man’s chest. 

He can barely compute it.

Remus is so...confident, and self-assured, he isn’t jumpy or easily scared, he barely cries at all. He’s also a man. The only time he’d ever known people to be...for that to happen to people is usually young women or older women in bad marriages. And when he sees them on TV or in the news, they always look...scared, like a “victim” as the news articles tend to say. 

“I don’t like having sex, but I have it anyway,” Remus mutters absently. “Because it makes me feel like I’m worth something.” Janus stares at him for a long and hard moment. He feels sick. He feels cold. He’d had sex with Remus, multiple times, he’d fucked him, he’d made him feel like that, he’d… “Oi, _no_ stop that, it isn’t your fault Jan, it’s why I didn’t want to tell you, I knew you’d not want to have sex with me anymore if you knew, ‘cause you’re not him.” He wipes his eyes and takes a shaky breath in, an absent smile on his lips. Because Janus is _not_ him, Janus is unlike any man Remus has had in his life; he’s an anxious wreck and a sweetheart and five foot six on a good day. There’s nothing brutal or imposing about the way he exists with Remus. He just makes him feel _safe_.

Remus shifts uncomfortably on the spot with a second to take a deep breath in. He closes his eyes as he does so. Then opens them again. His jaw tenses and he shakes his head, forcing the memory out of his head. “I barely remember it now, just snapshots of that night, but it did something to me, like the only time I can feel cared for is an act of service for someone else, but afterwards I just crash, I start feeling guilty and disgusting and like I want to rip my own skin off.” 

“You’re right,” Remus looks up very quickly, Janus shakes his head “...no, I mean I can’t have sex with you, not knowing that, not until we figure out how to get some help for you, you can’t live like that.” He sighs, not out of annoyance, but just sheer melancholia. He doesn’t know what to say or do. “And you’re not disgusting, you’re wonderful.” Remus’ eyes dart wide open, his cheeks heating, he’s almost startled out of his own tears for a moment, reaching a hand up to wipe them away as he takes the compliment. It doesn’t have an ulterior motive, Janus just said he doesn’t want to have sex with him, he’s just telling him he’s wonderful because it’s… _true?_

Well that _can’t_ be right, Remus is a disaster most days of the week.

“You have me and Roman, and Patton, though, you know that right? If you need something, _anything_ then you can ask us for it, right?” His tone sounds quiet and frantic, Remus barely knows what to do with the desperation and sadness in Janus’ expression, his eyes seeking the truth that Remus is constantly refusing to give him. 

“Yeah,” Remus replies, lying. 

“Look I don’t want to have sex with you, not knowing I can’t tell whether you actually want it or not...but I could do with a fucking hug.” Remus laughs softly in response, nodding. Janus pulls the covers back and crawls beneath them with the other man, who curls against him like he’s seeking the warmth. Janus’ hand grips Remus’ shirt almost desperately. Remus rests his head on the other’s chest, his arm wrapping around the other man and just... _breathing_. He’s not sure if he’s going to spend the rest of his life with Janus, but he’s definitely not sure how long he’s going to last without satiating his itch.

He drifts off to sleep worrying about that, because sex is simultaneously what keeps him alive and what is slowly killing him. There’s no right path, it’s a lose-lose situation.

Janus, restless, tucks Remus into the bed and presses a kiss to his forehead, letting the other man sleep. He stands in the room and stretches, before bringing his hand to his face and rubbing his eyes. He stares at the sleeping man for a second, documenting the only peace the other man gets. When he’d said he’d wished he could’ve seen inside Remus’ head, he hadn’t really expected the answer he got to be so...terrifying. He doesn’t know how Remus survives, if something like that had happened to him he’s not even sure he’d manage to get through the day at all.

He goes downstairs to start on dinner, pulling jars out of the cupboard, he doesn’t know who will be joining them for dinner, and he figures if all else fails the leftovers can be frozen and eaten tomorrow. 

He stares at the pan as he pours curry into it, before stirring it around almost absently. All he can think about is Remus, crying. The look on his face was dripping in terror, like he was watching it happen again and again. Is that how he lives his life? With that memory on repeat? 

He’d said he doesn’t remember most of it, but the look on his face said something else. 

And if there’s one thing Janus is learning, _has_ learned, it’s that Remus _lies_. 

The front door opens, startling him out of his reverie, he wipes the tears from his eyes and reaches for the garlic, dropping it into the pan as though he hadn’t meant to do that five minutes ago. He can hear Patton and Roman talking. 

“Is that curry I smell?” Patton’s head pops around the kitchen door. “Roman, I’m afraid I’m leaving you, this one knows how to cook.” Janus laughs softly, knowing full well Patton wouldn’t leave Roman if someone held him at gunpoint. 

Roman sings ‘Jolene’ under his breath with a tinge of sarcasm. Janus is eternally thankful to not be alone with his thoughts for a long moment. He’s also thankful he made enough food for more than just himself and Remus. 

“Are you okay?” He hadn’t noticed he was staring at the curry without moving, and startles. Patton had gone up to Roman’s room to change out of his work clothes, leaving Roman staring at Janus with worry. The blond opens his mouth to say _anything_ , but if he says he’s fine then he’s just one step away from doing the one thing he can’t stand Remus doing. And if he tells the truth then he’s talking about Remus behind his back. He does neither, he just feels the tears brim in his eyes and when he blinks they roll down his cheeks. His hands are shaking, and he lets go of the wooden spoon with a soft sniffle, bringing his hand to his eyes to wipe them. 

Roman utters a cuss word under his breath and crosses the kitchen in seconds, he’s asking what’s wrong and what happened, if Remus had done something. Janus shakes his head, and then he _really_ starts to cry. 

Roman gives good hugs, Janus finds, he’s warm and comfortable and everything about him is protective. “Did he tell you?” The older man asks, his hand rubbing Janus’ back in a way that makes him feel like a fragile child. He’s certainly crying like one. He nods in response.

“I’m scared,” he admits, his voice hoarse and dry. “I’m terrified, and I know that’s stupid, I’ve known him months and you’ve known him his entire life...I shouldn’t…”  
“Janus, I say this from a place of love, but shut up.” Roman shakes his head, pulling away from the hug, he squeezes Janus’ shoulders, and the smaller man almost winces. “It doesn’t matter how long you’ve known him, or how long I’ve known him, or how long you’ve been in _anyone’s_ life, this shit just _hurts_.” He shakes his head. “And it’s not a competition, I’m not competing with you for his affection, he cares in different ways.” 

The blond nods slowly. “I’m...he’s sick, like my mum was, but differently, I don’t know if it’s worse, but he is sick and if he doesn’t see a doctor…” his voice cracks again. “I can’t help him, or well I can, but I can’t make him better or healed or...anything like that, and I don’t...I can’t lose him, I _cannot_ lose him.” 

He may as well as just said the truth, because Roman knows it when he sees how shaken, how angry, how terrified Janus is. He thinks Remus must be blind or stupid to not know that this man loves him. There again, love is not the same for them as it is for him. 

Roman had the same father as Remus, he’d known abuse both physical and emotional from the other man. The difference was Roman also has Patton, he’d _had_ Patton through most of that. He’d known then the difference between whatever his father had been offering him, and love. He’d known what love _tastes_ like, _feels_ like, how it can be whispered in back alleyways and hidden under park slides. Remus hadn’t had that, love to Remus has only been given to him shattered and with intent to bruise. 

And Janus had lost _everyone_ he’d loved. 

Love as a weapon. Love as a forgotten memory.

“I know how that feels.” Roman sighs “...I’ve been trying to get him to see a doctor for so long now, but he says he doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time and...I also don’t know how well they’ll look after him.” 

Janus nods, pulling away and wiping his eyes, he needs to make the dinner. He needs to do just this _one_ thing right, just _one_ task that he can manage. “I’ll keep trying,” his voice comes out firm and determined, his jaw clenched as he glares at the pan of food “...maybe he’ll listen, maybe one day...maybe one day soon too, I hope so.” Roman nods, looking up at the clock in the kitchen for a moment, the seconds tick like a metronome, before he nods. 

“We’ll be down for dinner in a moment, smells delicious by the way.” 

“Thanks,” he pauses a moment “...Roman?” Roman looks up at him, halfway to the kitchen door. “Why do you two live alone? Sorry I...I know that it’s a strange question I just don’t think I can ask more of Remus today.”

“We got kicked out by our parents, inevitably really.” He hums quietly, looking down at the floor with his mind elsewhere. You don’t really forget days like that, that was the best and worst day of Roman’s life. “The whole queer thing didn’t sit well with them, then we moved here because it’s quiet and far away from them.” He smiles shortly, and without any humour at all, shaking his head. “See you in a minute, Janus.” 

He nods, turning back to the pan, he stirs the chunks of meat and vegetables around in the sauce so many times he’s worried he might become hypnotised by the movements. He’s half sure he’s going to fall asleep standing up for a moment, exhaustion that has nothing to do with the amount of time in a day seeping into him. Janus does not quite understand why he’s so upset, he should surely not be taking this so hard. Remus needs him to be strong, he needs to know that he’s supported. 

But he can’t keep shelving his own emotions. He can’t run away from them. This _hurts_ , everything about this hurts. That isn’t Remus’ fault, and it’s not Janus’, it’s simply how human minds work; he was presented with a fact that can’t be escaped, and that fact was haunting and scary for both of them to air. It does no-one any good to ignore their own feelings. 

He thinks Remus would hate it if he started hiding his feelings too. 

The truth is, he _is_ heartbroken absolutely anyone had done such a horrible thing to his partner. This is something that one day he is going to tell Remus. But today, right now, Janus has a plan, and that plan involves him finishing this dinner, straightening out his expression and doing absolutely everything he can to support his partner. 

He dishes the food, makes cups of juice, puts half a tea spoon of sugar in Remus’ because he needs it. He shouts up the stairs, Remus comes down first and he looks tired but also _relieved._ In the moment of silence where it’s just the two of them, Janus leans up on his tiptoes and kisses Remus’ forehead, the other man having to duck down a little for him. It makes the taller man smile just a little, squeezing his friend’s hands gently in his own, before sitting down for dinner. 

Roman and Patton eat with them, the two bicker like an old married couple, laughing between their words and looking at each other like the sun rises and sets on their lover. Janus hopes he lives long enough, that Remus lives long enough, for them to be unafraid of that sort of intimacy. 

He’d like to stare at Remus like he is, a whole star, burning up his life in these flames that feel so much like the only warmth he’s ever known.

He does the dishes once they’ve finished, as always. Remus dries them, which is new but not unwelcome. “Are you okay?” the taller man asks suddenly, his eyes staring at the dish rack and not much else. Janus is a little startled blinks up at the man he’s used to being the interrogator of, rather than vice versa. “I know it’s a lot, and I understand if you’re freaked out, I get it, I mean not many people want to deal with…”

“...Re?” Janus interrupts the ramble. “I don’t _‘deal with’_ anything, I’m here because I want to be, I’m with you because I want to be...I don’t intend to leave over this, I don’t _want_ to leave either, if anything it’s just...well…” his cheeks heat a little, Remus’ eyes study his face, waiting. “...well now I know right? So there’s no barrier now, I know it all, if anything now I have even more reason to stay, because you were honest with me and that’s _hard_ for you.” 

“Oh,” he doesn’t seem to have anything else to say, resting the dried plate on the side. “Do you have any earth-shattering secrets?” 

“Not really, I’ve already told you all mine,” he gives a small smile, it’s _almost_ amused. “I’ll let you know if I think of anything though.” He hands over all the knives and forks, Remus dries them with about as much conviction as a sinking ship. 

Janus drains the sink and puts away the dishes, taking Remus’ hand in his own. He doesn’t want to be apart from him at all, like if he blinks all of this will dissolve, this relationship they’d built. Or worse, Remus might slip through the cracks and dissolve with the flakes of snow falling outside of the kitchen window. 

He holds his hand a little tighter, but does not squeeze, the thought too hard to bear. 

They both crawl back into bed and tangle themselves with hands and arms and legs. Janus loves the sound of Remus breathing, he loves the feeling of the rise and fall as he...exists, lives. He falls asleep to that, exhausted both mentally and physically and the big meal certainly not helping. 

Remus however, could not be more awake, and he stays awake for a very long time, just himself, his thoughts, and the dark of this room.


	11. Fear of the Water // You smile when you dive in, like you're never coming back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worst nightmares have a habit of coming true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is best read whilst listening to fear of the water by SYML, if you really want the full experience I went through writing it. 
> 
> Warnings: Suicide attempt, mentioned self-harm scars, breakdowns.

When Janus wakes up on Monday morning, it is cold in the room. He untangles himself begrudgingly from the arms of his partner and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead under the mess of dark brown hair. In the dark, Remus manages to look paler, and his hair even darker, with nothing but the hint of streetlights to illuminate him. Nevertheless, as always, Janus thinks he looks pretty, but that has very little to do with rigid standards, he doesn’t have a tick chart to go through what makes a man beautiful. If he’s honest, if he’d met Remus in the street passing by, he probably would not have noticed him other than holding the thought that someone that tall should not be that skinny. That is regretful because if in another life he meets Remus under utterly normal circumstances, he hopes that version of himself gets to adore this man again.

He thinks Remus is beautiful mostly because of who he _is_. Because he’s brave and stubborn, and rarely the smartest man in the room. Because despite everything he keeps surviving, no matter how many conditions he’d been handed that should dictate he wouldn’t. Because he’s too tall and too skinny and definitely has some vitamin deficiencies. Because he’s depressed, and because sometimes he isn’t. Because he doesn’t know how to cook and that infuriates Janus to no end (and anyone who watches him fumble over the hob until the house threatens to burn down). Because simply put, he is Remus, and even the parts the other man detests about himself, Janus has made a civic duty to find (annoyingly for Remus) _utterly_ beautiful. 

Astounding, stunning, breathtaking. To a stubborn fashion. 

Remus stirs just an inch, but the noise he makes tells the other man he’s not waking before he leaves for work, so he just presses a careful kiss to the tip of the other man’s nose and wraps him up in the covers. His whole being aches to stay in bed with the other man, after the conversation they’d had the previous day he doesn’t for a second want to be anywhere but by his partner’s side. That is where he feels most comfortable, that is where he yearns to be with an utter impatience. He will spend the entire day wanting to crawl beneath those bedsheets and be safe in the fortress of pillows and blankets where the winter cold cannot touch him. Where the outside world can not perceive him. 

But, unfortunately, they all have bills that need paying. Everyone does. If there are two things that are forever certain in Janus’ life: It’s that he will always want to be in bed with Remus, and the second is that he will not be able to do that because taxes need paying. 

_‘Taxes,’_ Janus thinks with a childish huff as he gets into the shower _‘...are homophobic, because I would like to be in bed with my boyfriend, and I can’t be, because I have to pay them.’_ The warm water soothes his battered irritation just a little, and he washes his face and body and hair, before stepping out of the hot steam to shiver in the cold bathroom. He dries off, changes into his spare pair of clothes and folds his pyjamas and dirty underwear into a plastic bag. He leaves the bag in Remus’ room, checking the time on his watch and looking out of the window. 

Remus is fast asleep, his shoulders rising and falling slowly. Janus stares at the sleeping figure with a small smile, shaking his head. “There’s so much I want to say,” he whispers into the darkness. “But I don’t think I’m ready to say it, any more than you’re ready to hear it.” Remus snuffles lightly in his sleep, his hand stretching out to the empty space where Janus had been laying. He frowns, but Janus doubts it has much to do with his absence. “One day though, I won’t be such a coward, I hope we get a lot of one day’s you know.” He stands up off of the bed. “I honestly hope I get a forever with you, as utterly stupid of a wish that may be for someone I’ve known three months at best.” He smiles and shakes his head. “I’ll see you tonight, Remus.” Remus, of course, does not reply, but in Janus’ head he does and that’s enough. 

The train to work is longer now that it’s colder and mostly done in the damn dark. He hates having such an early-start job, he should really look for a new job, he’s been in the same one since he was a teenager, or at least since he was _barely_ an adult anyway. He doesn’t hate his job, actually, he enjoys it even if the customer-facing part he could do without. Mostly he just fixes other people’s technical problems, and it’s fun, he thinks computers are strange and fascinating. But the hours are long and exhausting, and getting a train there and back every morning and night is suddenly more tiring now that he has an excitement to get back to the village he lives in. Or rather, back to Remus anyway.

The day drags by, Janus has met snails with a more interesting pace. He’s nervous and excited to get back home to Remus; he knows that things are a little different now that he knows the truth, but he hopes it’s a good difference. He hopes he hadn’t pushed too hard from Remus, and that he was ready to say what he’d wanted to say to him. Otherwise, it was all sort of for nothing wasn’t it, he wants to help Remus but pushing the truth too soon would only hurt him. 

He steps outside at five in the evening, his backpack on his shoulders as he takes in the cold and dark air of winter. It chills him to some extent, but the winter is little match for a warm bed and softer hands. 

He’s barely made it down the street when his phone rings in his pocket, his eyebrows furrow and he answers it with a slight fumble, not fond of the small buttons. “Hello?” He asks, a strange feeling overcoming him. 

“Hi,” it’s Roman, and his voice sounds sore. For a second Janus can hear him trying to think about what he called for, what he needs to say. “It’s Roman, and...I’m at the hospital.” There are very few words that can make a pit open up in someone’s stomach, even fewer that feel like an axe grinding through your organs with intent to have your intestines spill out of your throat. But those words would do that to Janus. “Remus is...he’s okay, he’s getting treated I just…” 

“Which hospital?” Roman tells him, and Janus can hear him shaking, his breathing is aching from his tears and the blond wonders how soon it will be before he’s joining him. Is this his fault? Should he not have asked? Should he have just wondered, did he push too hard? In his desperate attempt to pull Remus back from the cliff edge, had he managed to push his lover _over_ it? 

These are all questions that he runs away from, his feet hammering against the pavement as he launches himself through the city so fast his lungs scream and his stomach jolts. His thighs burn and shake under his forceful exertion and Janus wants to scream but there is not enough air in his lungs. If Remus is not okay, then there will never be enough air in his lungs again. 

By the time he stumbles into the hospital parking lot his body is heaving up a storm, he’s sweating and gasping and his stomach ties around itself like a snake trying to devour its own tail. Roman is stood outside, not directly at the entrance but sat on a bench, out of the way with a cigarette in his mouth. Janus has never seen him smoke before. He sits down beside him and stares at the pavement for a long moment. “Did he…?” He can't find it in himself to finish the question, so he just stares hopelessly at the other man.

“Yeah.” Roman hands over the rest of his cigarette, Janus chokes on the inhale, darts up off the bench and empties the contents of his stomach onto the gravel. Roman grimaces a little. “He’s okay, physically anyway, he wasn’t under long, they’re pumping his stomach for all its worth.” Janus nods, taking a longer and more steady inhale of the cancer stick hanging out of his mouth. 

“Is it my fault?” he asks, after a few seconds of silence. 

“No,” Roman replies, firmly. 

“But do you _know_ that did-”

“No,” Roman says again, more firmly. “It isn’t your fault.” Janus’ shoulders sag and his entire body seems to crumble in on itself as he sits back down, placing his feet on the edge of the bench and drawing his knees up to his chest. “I have known Remus my entire life, and I have never, _ever_ , seen one person make him want to live for as long as you have.” Janus looks up, he looks tired, confused and exhausted. “He changed when he met you, you gave him hope, but a person can’t survive on that...his brain is different and maybe it’s because of what happened to him and maybe it’s genetic, I don’t _know_...but neither of us can be blamed, **_he_** can’t be blamed for something none of us can change permanently,” he shakes his head, he looks even older like this, furious and heartbroken and terrified. “He’s just sick, Jan, that’s _none_ of our faults.” 

“Okay,” Janus whispers. His mind is racing. He doesn’t know what to say and do, and the question he wants to ask he knows he shouldn’t. Roman looks over at him, pulls a near-full packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and takes one, sliding it between his lips. “You found him, I assume?” The other man nods, his hair looks darker in the night and the ginger tint is no longer there. His whole face is cast in shadows. 

“I went to the shop to get some things for lunch,” he muttered. “He hadn’t gotten out of bed yet and...well that’s normal for Remus; if he doesn’t get out of bed for work then he just doesn’t get up…” he lights the end of his cigarette, his face bathed in a temporary glow, before the lighter clicks off again. Smoke pours from his lips into the barely lit lamplight of the night. 

“...when I came back I shouted upstairs to ask if he wanted lunch, he didn’t answer, I thought maybe he was just asleep at first but usually if I shout loud enough he makes some sort fo grumble.” A sinking sensation twists through Janus’ stomach, grips him and tugs, but there’s nothing left there to be sick. “I knew before I opened the door I had this horrible, _horrible_ feeling...” Roman swallows dryly, but his eyes look wet even in the darkness and dim light. “...there was just a pile of pill bottles on the floor, and his arms were so red I thought he’d cut an artery.” He slides the cigarette back between his lips like he can smoke away the agony he’s feeling like there is anything in the world that can get rid of that sort of pain.  “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so hopeless in my life.” Roman whispers. 

“I’m sorry,” Janus replies, unsure of what else can be said to something like that. 

“Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault.” He smokes again, long and heaving like he’s desperate for his lungs to seize up. “It was all such a blur I barely even realised what was happening until I was in an ambulance. He came to after a while, he hadn’t stopped breathing...but _fucking hell_ the entire time I was terrified that he would, he’s fine...the doctors have assured me he has plenty of life in him yet to live, but he might have sustained some damage to his liver and kidneys, the cuts were fine, they’d long healed before I got to him but…” he shakes his head and takes another drag, takes half the cigarette with him “...how does a person do that to themselves without flinching, he didn’t scream or cry, he didn’t... _nothing_ , not even a _goodbye.”_

Janus feels suddenly very hollow. 

He knows that feeling. 

**_‘How could you leave me behind?’_ **

_...Without so much as a goodbye? _

“It’s not easy, is it? But at least he’s still here, and instead of saying goodbye, you can say hello to him.” His jaw clenches a little. He wants to scream and _scream_ and **_scream_** and...but he can’t. So he just cries. He flicks the remnants of the cigarette to the ground and buries his face in his folded arms. His shoulders shake with silent tears as they roll down his cheeks. Remus is fine and okay, but that’s not the point is it?

When’s the next time? How much of Janus’ life is going to be spent in this circle? Always terrified he won’t get so much as a goodbye? His worst nightmare had almost come true and he is utterly powerless to it. There is nothing he can do to stop Remus from trying again because there was nothing he could do this time.  One day, he could go to work and Remus would not be there when he gets back. That was almost today.  He’s not ready to attend another funeral for someone who screams so silently that they forget that they have a mouth and lungs that they’re free to use. Why hadn’t he called him? Why hadn’t he said goodbye? 

If nothing else. Just _that._

He’s not angry at Remus. The worst thing that could be done to a person, let alone a _child_ , was done to him and there is no chance in hell he could be any less than heartbroken on his lover’s behalf. He reckons this is probably a reasonable response to spending every day with that memory buried in your mind. But he’s angry that this is how his life is, he’s angry that anyone could hurt him, he’s angry that these things happen at all, he’s furious with the fact that Remus thinks that having help makes him a problem. Janus is almost certain that he'd like to tell whoever taught Remus that to take a long hike off a short pier and never return. 

He’s angry that they live in a world where suicide is the only answer for that brutal sort of heartbreak. Because it should not only not be the only answer, it shouldn’t be on the fucking syllabus at all. 

And he’s scared. Fuck, how could he not be? He doesn't know what comes next, what happens next. He just wants to hold Remus’ hand. 

“Can we go in?” 

“Are you ready?” Janus wipes his eyes and nods with determination. “Okay.” 

He stands up feeling like he’s aching, the whole world swims around him and he doesn’t notice. He just hears his own blood roaring in his ears, the sound of his heartbeat. If he closes his eyes, he can convince himself he can hear Remus’ too, beating through the touch of his fingertips. If he just lets time slow, roll backwards, he can feel the other’s lips and grin and the sound of his breath coming out hot against his neck. He can trace his fingertips down Remus’ spine and hold him so close that the body heat makes him feel just an inch more living. 

But then he’s stepping into a hospital room to stare absently at the same man, but colder. He’s asleep, pale, his eyes are sinking under the weight of the bags beneath them, his lips are dry and chapped and losing colour. His arms are on display beneath the hospital gown, the skin shredded and torn almost...viciously. Like he’d been picking a fight he’d known he couldn’t win at all. 

Janus does not cry. That’s not what he needs and it’s not what Remus needs, instead he drags his suddenly too heavy body to the side of the bed, sits down and rests his head at Remus’ side. Roman sits on the chair against the wall, he looks exhausted, like he’s about to pass out. They both sit there in silence and wait. 

Half an hour in there’s a knock at the door, Patton walks in and offers a tight smile, handing a coffee to Roman and one to Janus. Janus thanks him, but his voice is so quiet that even the silence threatens to swallow it up. “They're setting him up with a psych evaluation,” the nurse whispers softly to the two of them. “I’m not supposed to tell you that but, well I thought you ought to know, he has to have it, he doesn’t get a choice in that; he doesn’t live alone so the chances of him being forcibly institutionalised are very low...but he’s probably looking at therapy whether he likes it or not.” He leans against the wall, he looks dead on his feet, like he’s barely managing to stay upright. 

“Have you finished your shift?” Roman asks, his eyes full of the same care and worry Janus has seen on his own face a million times. Patton nods, his eyes staring at Remus’ body, then his face crumples. Roman places down his coffee and stands up, bringing his partner into a comfortable hug, Janus envies the warmth that must bring and turns his attention back to Remus. He’s scared if he so much as blinks he’ll disappear. 

“I didn’t think he’d be here again so soon,” Patton whispers. “How many more times before he…?”

“Shhh,” Roman whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of the other man’s head. “It’s okay, he’s getting help this time.” 

Janus hopes so, for all of their sakes, but especially for Remus’. 


	12. Guillotine // I've got thoughts nobody needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus is going to be okay, or so he hopes, so everybody around him hopes; if he can just take those steps to get there.

Janus stays the night in this hospital room, he’s fairly certain these people are supposed to ask if he’s family, but then again they hadn’t asked the last time he’d been sleeping on a single chair waiting for Remus to wake up. He supposes the night shift have more important things to worry about than him, as attested by the fact he’s sleeping on a very uncomfortable chair. 

Roman looked exhausted when he left, the sort of tired that no amount of ‘go home and get some rest’ can fix. Janus does not for a moment blame him, he understands why Roman can’t stay here, firstly because he’s already a mess of muscle soreness and he will not be able to sleep in this room; and secondly, because this is not the first time Roman, or Patton, have sat in a hospital room waiting for Remus to wake up. Something like that doesn’t get easier to see, it only gets harder. 

Janus wonders how many times he’s going to see this, if ever again. He doesn’t want to place too much hope in his own heart because this crash is so brutal that he wonders how to stabilise his own heart. No wonder Roman always looks older than he is, acts older too, could you imagine having to be a father not only to your twin brother but to yourself too? Could you imagine being the sole support network to someone who seems to tick like a time bomb and then explode? 

He doesn’t pity Roman, but he’s very glad he has Patton because that means that Janus knows he’s safe and not alone. 

Janus does not find it easy to sleep that night and not because the chair is so stiff and uncomfortable. At first, he struggles to sleep despite his overwhelming exhaustion, the hours creeping by. Occasionally he cries quietly, softly, so no-one can hear. It’s just him, the darkness, and his partner. He tries to grasp the situation as best as he can, one moment Remus had been at home, asleep, and the next he was in a hospital bed. Janus doesn’t really know how to handle that, but he assumes it must be harder for Remus, or at least it will be when he wakes up. 

It’s well into the early hours of the morning before he falls asleep, his muscles stiff and his body cold, but he does eventually succumb to slumber. 

When the morning rolls around he is still tired, but the sunlight floods the far too white room, offering a little bit of warmth. Janus lifts his head with a wince, his back aching and not in a pleasant way at all, but then he’s more preoccupied with the dark eyes staring at him. Remus is awake, sat up against the headrest with a bowl of cereal in his lap that he seems to be struggling to eat. The IV drip that had been connected to his arm has been removed, but the cannula is still there, the needle taped into the crook of his inside elbow. It doesn’t look comfortable. 

Remus looks a little amused by his presence in some way, his eyebrow raised as Janus looks up at him. He pushes a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and then rests the bowl somewhere else, seemingly giving up on trying. He looks like hell, his skin pale and too tight over his bones, bags as dark as bruises even starker against the white lights of the hospital. He looks exhausted, Janus feels exhausted. “You’re awake,” the blond mutters softly, his throat dry and voice rough as he speaks. 

“Have been for a few hours now, I woke up whilst it was still dark because I needed to throw up my entire guts, and then I got tea and food from the very lovely nurse.” He gives a grin, but it’s lacking its usual brightness. Janus sits closer to the bed and smiles reassuringly, or what he hopes is reassuring anyway. “You stayed here all night.” It isn’t a question, but Janus nods anyway by way of response. “Your back must be killing you.” 

“I can barely feel it,” he replies, voice coming out almost like a whisper. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck.” That seems like an accurate description. He doesn’t know what Remus took or how much, but he does know that it doesn’t look pleasant to put that much drugs into you, and even worse to get them all out. His stomach must look like a warzone right now. “But I’ll be alright, apparently I’m an alcoholic, did you know?”

“A little.” Janus rests his head against the bed, his arms folded underneath it. “You do drink a lot, but I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to say anything.”

“That’s understandable.” Remus shuffles to one side of the bed. “Come on.” Janus glances nervously through the door, before sliding off his shoes and squashing up next to Remus in the bed. He wraps an arm around the other man’s too-thin waist and rests his head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. He doesn’t know why it makes him cry to hear it thudding, but it does. Remus frowns and runs a hand through his hair soothingly. “I’m okay Jan, it’s okay.”

“Nothing about this is okay,” Janus whispers. His voice cracks when he speaks and his voice is almost...angry, but not furious anger, heartbroken. He still doesn’t know what to do with all of these emotions but he does feel ready to pick a fight with absolutely anyone and anything that has ever hurt Remus or ever will. “Absolutely nothing, okay would be you not having to suffer, that would be okay.” He shakes his head just a little, sniffling. “ You are not okay, and this is not okay and it’s not your fault, I don’t blame you but you’re not okay and you need to stop saying you are.” Remus goes silent. He doesn’t say anything for a very long moment. 

“I know.” He says softly, eventually, pressing a kiss to the top of Janus’ head. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not upset with you.”

“I know.” 

Janus does not want to leave Remus’ side, he eventually has to pry himself away from Remus so the doctors can take his blood. He doesn’t say a word the entire time, he just rests his exhausted head against the bed. Remus however, jokes with them and flirts with the female nurses who definitely know he’s not interested, nothing about this man could be less than flamboyant. He’s doing it to cheer himself up, Janus thinks. He even cracks something of a small smile when the bubbly nurse laughs in response to Remus’ flirtation with “oh I would, but I think my husband might have something to say about it.” Remus laughs instead, he sounds tired even then.

Janus falls asleep again at some point, jerking awake by the sound of the door opening. It’s easily midday by this point as a doctor informs Remus that the psychiatrist will be here in around an hour to have a consultation with him. “Your...brother...?” He looks at Janus, who snorts a little in response. Remus is easily over 6ft tall, thin as a rod with hair that is almost black, there is no way he’s Janus’ brother. They don’t look remotely similar.

“Sure,” Remus says, with a grin. “We’ll go with that.” Janus glares at him. 

“...right, well, your brother can join with your consent.” 

“Absolutely not,” Janus is still reeling from being mistaken for Remus’ brother. He glances up at his own hair and furrows his eyebrows, yes he’s still obnoxiously blond. His mother used to say Janus could never go missing because his hair is like a traffic light. 

“I’m not his brother,” Janus finally says, because that just feels wrong. “His actual brother might want to attend though.” 

“He’s not going too, the doctor said I have to consent.” Janus meets Remus’ eyes as though trying to have a silent conversation. 

“You do, so you think over that, and I will let you know when the psychiatrist arrives, from a medical standpoint you’re good, your blood work has come back and we’re a little concerned on how low your iron and vitamin d levels are, but over the counter medication for that is fairly cheap, we’ll prescribe you some tablets that you can pick up from your local pharmacy.” The doctor lowers his clipboard and smiles warmly. “You should also cut back on your alcohol consumption, whilst your liver and kidneys are not currently showing any abnormalities, the alcohol levels in your blood were far too great for someone your weight and could indicate future problems.” He nods with a small hum. “But, psychiatric evaluation permitted, you should be able to be discharged today, and we’ll send that prescription over, now it’s most important that you take the vitamins throughout winter, it’s not so imperative in the summer because we have sunlight, but obviously in the winter, days are shorter, less sunlight, so less vitamin D, is all that clear?” 

“Yes,” Remus replies, looking like it really is not clear. 

“Good, I will leave you and your friend to it then.” Then he walks out the door and closes it behind him. 

“Brother?” Janus asks, his voice a whole pitch higher. “If you weren’t bed-bound I would slap you,” he jokes lightly. 

“Heteronormitivity is a hell of a drug,” Remus laughs softly, running a hand through his hair. “Come on, don’t lie, it’s just a little bit funny isn’t it?” 

“I look nothing like you, like not even distant relatives.” He shakes his head, then grimaces. “Nope, no thank you,” the taller man is laughing properly now at the disgusted expression on Remus’ face. “Now every time I kiss you I’m going to be thinking about the time someone thought I was your brother...he’s a medical professional surely he should know how genetics work, I look nothing like you!”

“Can’t wait to tell Roman,” Remus grins. “He’s going to have a field day, although he’s used to that, so many people think he and Patton are brothers.” 

“Patton doesn’t even have the same skin tone as Roman, you two are white as milk and he looks perpetually like he’s just gotten back from fucking Benidorm, that’s even worse!” Remus doesn’t stop laughing, his hand on his stomach as he half laughs and half winces. Then his stomach lurches and he grimaces, hiccuping on his own breath. “Are you okay?” 

“About as okay as I can be,” he replies with a small smile. He shuffles around a little, sitting up against the headboard. “What about you?” 

“Getting better,” his smile is tight in response, squeezing Remus’ hand in his own gently. “You’re here, and that’s what matters.” Janus meets Remus’ eyes with a more relaxed smile, and Remus’ cheeks flush a little, his eyes going slightly wide before he tears their gazes in two and looks away. “Are you blushing?” 

“No.”

“You are! You’re blushing!” 

“I am absolutely am not,” Janus stands up off the chair and plonks down next to Remus on the bed, leaning over and kissing his cheek. Remus makes a small noise at the back of his throat and narrows his eyes at Janus. “You stop that.” 

“Stop what?” 

“Seducing me.”

“I am not!” 

“Are too!”

The door opens and Roman stands there, staring at the two of them with furrowed eyebrows. “Isn’t Remus blushing?” Janus asks, immediately, his hand coming up to poke the warm cheek. Roman studies Remus’ face with furrowed eyebrows, the other’s cheeks darken in response, burying his face in his hands as he avoids the gaze. 

“He is,” Roman concludes with a nod. “What did you do?” 

“I...I don’t know to be honest,” Janus grins, before sliding off the bed to sit back down on the chair. That single hospital bed is really not made for two. Remus is smiling very softly as he stares down at the hands that are now in his lap, shaking his head. He looks a little more...bright, with that expression on his face, not forced, not struggling to grasp a hold of a single piece of happiness. 

“The doctor said that I’m physically fine,” Remus informs Roman, who nods, sitting down on the other free chair with an interesting expression on his face. “He said the psychiatrist will be here in an hour or something, and then I’ll be allowed to go based on that diagnostic assessment.” He sighs a little, his shoulders rising and falling with the depth of it. “I really landed myself in it this time huh, couldn’t brush that one off as an ‘I forgot how much I was taking,’ could I?”

“No,” Roman replies with a small and sad smile. “But at least now you can actually get some help, and please just...just try, this time, okay? That’s...that’s all I’m asking, just tell the truth and try.” Remus looks up at his brother, the smile absent from his face and back to looking tired and without humour. Janus stares at his own hands for a moment, wondering if he should leave the two to talk, but neither seems to be indicating he should leave. “But at least you didn’t do any lasting damage, which is a miracle in itself.” 

“Yeah, apparently I need to stop drinking though, my kidney is on its way out.” Remus snorts, Roman shakes his head, but he is smiling a little in amusement. 

“I’ve been telling you that one for years.” 

“Oh don’t start.”

“What? It’s true! You…” Janus tunes out the argument, just watching the two of them bicker, voices getting higher but they have those grins on their faces, enjoying riling each other up. Janus had never thought much if he’d wished he’d had a brother or sister. He thinks he probably has a half-brother on his dad’s side, but he never met him.

“The entire ward can hear you two,” none of them had noticed the door opening, Patton is stood there in his normal clothes looking far too amused at the two of them. “I knew before I even got here which room you were in. He hands Roman a coffee and Janus and coffee. Remus pouts. “No caffeine for you mister, or alcohol for that matter I saw your bloodwork.” 

“Oh, here we go,” Remus mutters, Patton laughs softly, shaking his head. 

“I don’t know how your poor body is still going, I’ve half a mind to be making you a nutrition plan so that you still have organs at thirty.” Janus bites back a grin at the tone, Remus rolls his eyes. 

“I know it’s usually Roman’s job, but I’ve half a mind to start calling you daddy.” 

“Remus!” Roman and Janus utter in unison. Roman looks mortified, Janus is fairly certain he’s high on endorphins because his laughter is starting to ache in delirium. 

“Bullying goes two ways,” Remus shrugs, confiscating his partner’s coffee, who stares at his hand in confusion for a long moment before pouting. Janus decides he now knows far too much about Roman’s sex life. “And I was joking, but judging by how red Roman’s face is, I’m not wrong.” 

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” Patton beams, plonking himself down in Roman’s lap. 

“You don’t really need to tell, the walls are very thin,” Remus quips back, before handing the coffee back to Janus, who looks like he’d like to be anywhere but listening to this conversation. “Let a man laugh, I almost died!” 

“And that’s quite enough out of you,” Roman mutters, shaking his head, red as a tomato. But he looks happier to see Remus happier...and Janus is too. They’d both been dreading what would come next, if they’d have to console him, if he’d be angry or if he’d be melancholy, but true to Remus he’s up and down like a fucking rollercoaster. Janus isn’t entirely sure the other man knows how to get off this ride any more than they do. 

Which is why it’s very important that Remus tells the truth, that he talks about what’s going on with someone.

Another knock on the door has Patton jumping out of Roman’s lap and shuffling awkwardly into the corner of the room, leaning against the windowsill as if it’s particularly interesting. The doctor walks in with a too-friendly smile, but his voice comes out soft and a little worried. “The psychiatrist is here to see you, Remus, will you be attending alone?” 

“Yep,” Remus hums. He slides off the bed and winces a little, stretching out his legs with a grimace. “When am I getting this thing taken out?” He gestures to the cannula in his arm. 

“We’ll get that taken out after your appointment.” 

And then they’re both gone, leaving the three of them in the room to wait. “Do you think he’ll tell the truth?” Janus wonders aloud. They’ve both known Remus their entire lives, they know him better. Every day is a learning experience for Janus and although he cares for his partner greatly and adores him in ways words can’t express, he knows he does not know him better than his brother and best friend. 

“I don’t know,” Roman replies gently. “I think he wants too, but…” he trails off, with a shrug. “It’s hard to tell with Remus, one minute he’s one way then another, up and down all the time, he’s not consistent in many things in his life and...lately he’s changing again.” Janus nods in response. 

“I hope he does though,” Patton adds quietly. “He’s like a little brother to me, but sometimes I do wonder how much more of this I can take.” Roman nods in agreement. “It’s not his fault, I’m not angry with him or upset with him, it’s just hard living like this; I thought he was getting better and then suddenly he’s in the hospital again.”

“How many times has he done this?” Janus asks. 

“Under the assumption that he was in a river for that reason, this would be his seventh suicide attempt,” Roman utters bluntly. Janus puts his coffee down because his stomach suddenly lurches very violently. “I did warn you.” 

“I know, it’s okay,” the blond whispers quietly. “I want to help him, but...I can’t, can I?” He looks up at Patton, who knows far more about this stuff than he does. 

“You can help, but...mental illness is not something you can stick a bandaid over and it’s fixed, right now you’re a bandaid, but what he’s got is a gunshot wound, and unless he gets professional help, he’s going to bleed himself dry; he needs real psychological help, and possibly medication, but the developments for this sort of thing still have a lot of work that needs doing.” 

“Right.” 

“It’s not easy, I know the sort of therapy he’d have to go through, I couldn’t imagine being able to stomach it either.” Patton looks down at the ground. 

“You read a lot, don’t you?” Janus asks, the other man laughs softly, Roman looks up at his partner with this inch of pride. It must be wonderful to be looked at like that. Janus thinks doctors and nurses are kind of like superheroes, they work and work for next to nothing, except the need to help other people. He wouldn’t be able to stomach this job, and if there’s anything he knows about Patton who is eternally soft-hearted, he thinks that this man must be a whole lot braver than he is. 

He must see people like this every single day and he just keeps going. Janus is surprised that there isn’t specialist therapy for nurses and doctors, who have to see the real horrors of the world. 

“I have too, I’m going to be a doctor one day,” then Patton beams and Janus feels like everything is going to be just fine. He calls that the nurse effect, where they make you feel like there’s nothing that is ever going to go wrong whilst you're in their care. 

When Remus returns he looks like he’s been dragged to hell and back, his eyes are puffy and his hands are shaking and he doesn’t think twice about curling up in Janus’ lap and burying his face in his neck. Janus, unsure entirely what to do, hugs him close and presses a kiss to the top of the brunet’s head. “I hated that.” 

“I don’t think anyone enjoys it.” Remus nods. “What did he say?”

“Well I’m definitely traumatised, I’ve got to attend therapy at the adult psychological services and he offered me antidepressants, but apparently I need to read all the side effects first and have a talk with my GP.” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“You’re telling me.” He takes a deep, shaky breath in “...but at least they’re letting me go, it’s just looking like I’m gonna have therapy.” 

“That’s good.” Remus shoots him a look of distaste. “I know, but it is good.” 

“Yeah, just not looking forward to it either.”

“I know but it will help.” Remus smiles at him, not happily, but in a comforting fashion, or perhaps the smile of someone who is comforted. All he really knows for that second, is maybe it will be worth it, maybe there is life on the other side of all of this. 


End file.
